#but I don’t HAVE ENOUGH for a week’s worth by Wednesday

[isdalinarhot]

bank transfer times you are my worst fucking enemy

[angelofblackblood]

I’m so tired.

[kumkaniudaku]

Spoiled

Summary: Tensions boil over on the Thanksgiving trip to New Orleans.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,060

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Previous: Sorry 2024

“Where’s Treece?” 

Terry couldn’t care less but entertained the question for his mother’s sake as he took the seat closest to the window at their reserved table for a late breakfast. 

“In the room pouting,” He grumbled with his annoyed glare focused solely on the breakfast menu. “She’ll be down eventually. Or not. I don’t know or care.”

Marvin chuckled over his mug of coffee. “I’m not all that convinced, son, but I’ll let you have it.” 

As much as they were lovers, Terry and Patrice were friends who bickered like siblings. Petty back and forths reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments, leading to heated, silent arguments. A refusal to raise their voices at each other out of respect resulted in hushed whispers and sarcastic jabs that were so ridiculous to those not involved that Terry’s parents often referred to them as live telenovelas. 

Their latest episode was the most trivial to date. 

Separate families stationed in conflicting parts of the country forced the newest Richmond couple to compromise on how they split their holiday schedule. With a family known for their culinary pursuits, Terry naturally claimed Thanksgiving for his side. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of missing her Nana’s fresh apple pie, Patrice compromised with the caveat that their New Year’s plans were neutral ground for them and them alone. Handshake and lip lock agreements set them on a path to plan for the final six weeks of the year. 

For all of his careful planning, Terry didn’t anticipate how his wife’s commitment to the pupils under her care would collide with his plans to spend extended time in New Orleans. 

“Baby, it’s just two days.” He explained to Patrice while he helped clear the table after dinner one evening. “I’ll get you on the first flight out Wednesday morning. Promise.” 

“I know, but still. I’m gonna miss you. We’re not apart that often.” 

“We’ll make it worth the wait once you get there.” 

Repeated promises to steal some alone time once reunited preceded quick kisses as Terry prepared to join his parents and siblings on a flight early Monday morning. But, once the sun set on their first day apart in months, loneliness and frustration set in for Patrice. Text messages slowed to a creep. Sparse voice notes attempted to fill the void left in their near-silent home. She wasn’t mad at Terry for enjoying time with his loved ones. She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.

Excitement took a backseat to unshakeable irritability on her solo flight to the Big Easy on Wednesday morning. No hugs, kisses, or meaningful conversation for 48 hours could send even the most solitary person over the edge. Terry sent messages in droves to share his excitement for her arrival and she fought the urge to snap back at him. His smiling face greeting her at the hotel’s front entrance briefly soothed her ire until the reality that they couldn’t shake his family’s company set in. 

Every private conversion came with an intrusion. Kisses meant to go further than a quick peck were interrupted before they could start. Attempts at sneaking away never came to fruition. Soon, Patrice’s sour attitude became Terry’s disposition. He knew his anger was misdirected, but couldn’t find the words to explain his annoyance. 

They didn’t speak before bed Wednesday night and barely looked at each other Thursday morning. One angry Richmond was enough. Two made everyone uncomfortable. 

“It’s time for breakfast, Treece.” What Terry intended as an innocent reminder came out as a gruff bark that he couldn’t take back before Patrice opened her mouth to respond. 

“I know! I can see the time!” 

“Then hurry up!” 

“Fuck it! I’ll eat by myself!” 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Their silly exchange ended with Terry tossing the second hotel key on the bed before he stomped out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind him. 

The moment replayed in his head as he scanned the menu for something they could share in case she made her way out of self-imposed solitary confinement. 

“Well, I hope she makes it down. I wanted her to try a few things,” DeeDee added, unaware that the entire conversation was pushing her son to his limits. “The French toast is something.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you can get her off the third floor, do whatever you please.”

“She’s probably happy to have you out of her back pocket. My girl can’t catch a break,” Zorah teased. 

Zanah laughed and shook her head. “You haven’t seen Patrice. I swear she was trying to climb into his skin when the elevator doors opened last night. They’re equally insane.” 

“See what happens when you end up in grown folks’ business?” 

“Oh, please.” 

Zanah childishly stuck out her tongue and received a middle finger pulled out of his hoodie’s front pocket as a prize for her antics. 

“Stop it, you two.”

“I thought when y’all became adults all this shit would slow up,” Marvin groaned, shaking his head as his two stubborn children traded schoolyard insults just short of joking about each other’s mama. Movement in his periphery offered what he hoped was a change of pace. “Oh thank God. The guest of honor is here.”

Patrice offered a weak wave and smile upon her approach, hoping they couldn’t see the remnants of a frustrated cry on her face. Terry could, though. He flashed her a concerned look and she answered with eyes that begged him not to inquire further. A round of hugs and greetings sent her to the empty seat across from her husband. 

The friction between them was palpable. They didn’t extend each other the luxury of pet names and googly-eyed grins like they normally would. Time spent canoodling was replaced by stolen glances and tight-lipped requests to pass over utensils. 

DeeDee cleared her throat for their attention. “Um, hi. Mom checking in here. Is there a problem between you two that we should be aware of?” 

“No,” Patrice answered loud enough to eclipse whatever Terry attempted to share. “We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that. Right, James? Just fine, huh?”

“Peachy. Nicole is throwing a tantrum over God knows what but Nicole refuses to say more than three words to me at a time, so, while I love Nicole, I will not spend my morning chasing her around because Nicole is not a child and can use her words.”

Terry’s rant came through gritted teeth, leaving him almost out of breath as he neared the end. 

Patrice couldn’t formulate a rebuttal despite wanting to take their spat to the next level. She could only hang on to the firmness in his tone, the words sounding more like a warning than an explanation for their distance. Terry caught the flicker of something mischievous in her eyes and how she slowly crossed her legs beneath the table before grazing her foot against his clothed calf. His frown faltered for a moment. An unspoken understanding was telepathically communicated.

Four sets of eyes stared back at the standoff in utter confusion. 

Zanah took a loud sip of water to snap them out of their trance. “Oh-kay. So, I was thinking about gettin’ this crawfish omelet. Daddy, you oughta get the quesadilla so I can get a piece of that and, Zo, you get the Benny.” 

“But I don’t wanna share my food with you.” 

“Zorah! We are twins. We share!”

Chatter about seafood dressing and late-night spades tournaments planned for the rest of the day swirled around Terry and Patrice as they maintained senseless anger, too committed to the misunderstanding to relent without feeling embarrassed. 

The quiet simmer of mixed emotions followed them after tabs were paid, cocktails were consumed, and the elevator lifting them to the third floor was emptied of spectating parties. Terry pretended to type into his phone while sneaking looks at the way Patrice’s ass sat up in her leggings. 

“You wanna talk when we get in or what?” 

Patrice turned to look over her shoulder. “We can.” Her eyes caught the slow lick of his bottom lip before flickering back up to find him already watching her. “If you want.” 

“Good. I’m tired of the attitude.” 

“Great because I’m tired of yours.”

Having a civil discussion became a background thought once the soft buzz and click of their room door put them seconds away from the privacy they so desperately craved. 

Terry covertly slid the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle before double-checking the deadbolt lock and metal latch. Patrice busied herself with the television remote, turning a rerun of CSI: Miami up to a reasonable volume. Just enough to drown out an explosive meeting of minds or bodies. 

“Ready?” Terry questioned as he pulled his hoodie up, then over his head to deposit it on the back of the nearby desk chair. “We only have an hour or so before we need to head out.” 

“I think we can settle this pretty quick. Don’t you?” 

“Depends. I got a lot to say.”

They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together. 

Down to thin layers of underwear and insatiable desire, they met for skin-to-skin contact. Patrice set a pace that only Terry could match. Frantic hands gripped broad shoulders to hike one long leg around his waist. Heavy hands found a home beneath round ass for a full sensory experience. 

Patrice pulled away from a messy kiss for a deep enough breath to bark instructions at her phone for a 15-minute timer. The race was on. Friction would either bring a resolution or be why they found common ground. 

Words were hard to come by during a hungry heavy-petting period. Shared breaths and wandering hands communicated every need, peeling away the last barriers that kept them separated. Touch me like this. Kiss me there. I need you here. 

Soon, the itchy hotel carpet pressed into the delicate skin of Patrice’s knees while she looked up at a clenched jaw and flexed abs. She wanted to feel him grow to all of his glory inside her mouth, and he was happy to oblige her request. A fist full of knotless braids kept Terry feeling like he had control of the situation, though they both knew the truth. 

Gagging and gawking provided a filthy auditory masterpiece that he hoped to remember for as long as he lived. Curses meant as praise fueled her performance as she pressed crescent moons into his thighs to remain stable. Her lash extensions drooped under the weight of alligator tears. Her jaw ached from being stretched to capacity over and over. Her thighs burned from her kneeling position. None of the discomforts could deter her from the goal. 

Terry gently placed a warm palm on Patrice’s cheek, admiring her work with a hazy smile. “Missed me, huh?” he breathed out, earning a grin. 

“Mhmmm.”

“I missed you, too. Come here.”

“Missed” was an understatement. A flat-out lie. He was just as needy, just as excited to be inside her, just as ready to abandon demure social norms to unleash the lust and love brewing inside as she was. 

An indescribable pleasure emerged from using and being used. No holds barred. Unrestrained aside from muffled groans unleashed into crisp white pillowcases and skin slick with fresh sweat. 

Terry kept Patrice’s chest pressed into the bed with one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other tangled at her roots. She fisted the sheets to keep a grip on the bed and reality while her eyes went in and out of focus. An open mouth produced choked squeaks between sharp breaths. She listened to her name roll from her lover’s lips like a sonnet written just for her. 

He was close. His body tensed with every stroke. Sweet talk broke into throaty groans. Hips lost their rhythm as they sought deeper connection. It was a good angle, but Patrice knew it could be better. It had to get better. This had to be worth it. Who knew when they’d have the chance to fuck each other senseless in the city they made their first commitment to rekindle an almost forgotten flame?

“Let me see you,” Patrice moaned, her head turned just enough to get Terry’s attention. “Please. I wanna see your face.” 

Exhausted limbs shifted and reconnected at the head of the bed, dragging linens along with them. Patrice propped her body on one elbow to shorten the distance between their faces before pulling Terry into a kiss by the back of his head. He was equally tender and possessive, leading with full lips and a tongue eager to taste the remnants of juice and syrup left inside her mouth. 

Then came fingers. Patrice replaced her swollen lips with her middle and ring digits in search of lubrication for other pursuits. The dull ache between her legs needed concentrated attention to reach the promised land. Terry didn’t need further direction. He did as he was told with a gaze just playful enough to convey that he knew what was up. He couldn’t wait to witness what she had in store. 

Their foreheads pressed together as they focused on the slow, lazy circles Patrice drew on her pearl. Terry added his contribution according to her pace, drawing in and out so dazed that he wouldn’t have been able to repeat his name if prompted. 

His brow furrowed to match his effort. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

He meant his compliment for his wife though he spoke the words to the body responsible for his glee in the moment. She giggled and threw her head back like a cowgirl to enjoy the ride.

Terry readjusted his angle to chase her lips as a familiar tingle set in. His arms hooked one leg at the bend of her knee before pressing forward on one hand for leverage to drive faster. Harder. 

They were close again, each chasing an individual high harder and faster than before. 

Patrice tried to play innocent as her sultry voice egged him on with seemingly innocuous statements. “You’re so good to me, baby. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

He tried to slow down, tried to prolong the moment despite his hips driving forward with more and more power. Patrice licked and kissed the shell of his ear to egg him on. 

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.”

A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

An unraveling. Muffling broken words against lips curled into a triumphant smile, Terry came undone with his eyes clamped shut to see colors dance behind closed lids. Her orgasm crashing in wasn’t enough for Patrice to break eye contact. She stared back the entire time, mouth opened and eyes transfixed in a devious stare under low eyelids. She didn’t want to miss a moment of his chest heaving, arms tensing, and hips bucking to deliver her the perfect body high she could get without drugs. Earth-shattering, thigh-quaking releases had their place, no doubt. They could never replace the sensation of falling more in love with every electric shockwave brought forth by the love of her life. 

Terry floated back into reality feeling lightheaded, stress-free, and searching for sweet kisses to cap off filthy deeds. 

“Baby, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he joked before pressing three quick pecks to Patrice’s lips. “Spoiled and gorgeous.”

She giggled along with him. “If that’s true, why haven’t I been able to get rid of you yet.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?” 

Light laughter and yet another round of theme song guitar synths rang out as they disconnected and found rest cuddled atop crumpled sheets. Patrice shifted to place her chest on top of Terry’s and traced her index finger along his beautiful cheekbones. 

“We’re playing with fire, TJ. I know you got the notification about this week being risky.”

“Don’t act like I was the one throwing a tantrum this morning.” 

“A tantrum is strong, okay! A tiny meltdown, maybe.” The sudden ring of her long-forgotten alarm cut their laughter short and drew attention to the nightstand. “Right on time.” Patrice stretched across Terry to handle the distraction, drawing his physical attention as he caressed and dropped kisses along her hip. She came back to him and kissed both of his lips separately. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.”

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” He answered as he pushed a few stray braids over her shoulder.

“Use my words?” 

“Use your words.”

“I need more kisses. Or I'll melt. You wouldn't let me melt, right?”

Amorous feelings were back on the rise as they shared a slow, relaxed kiss unfit for two people on a tight schedule. 

Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.”

She was bashful, almost refusing to look him in the face as if asking him to bathe together was somehow more revealing than what they’d just shared. 

“Not too hot on the water, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry chuckled as another kiss and loose instructions sent Patrice on her way with a giddy hop in her step. He listened to her make arrangements in the bathroom while he made the room more like somewhere to sleep and not ground zero of a natural disaster. 

He placed clothes in neat stacks, straightened items that took a tumble in the heat of the moment and piled dirty sheets in the middle of their bed. When all was complete, he took a seat to contact the front desk. 

“Hey, could we get some fresh sheets later today? Room 335.” Patrice calling for him from the shower made him smile against the receiver. “Sure, extra towels too. Yes ma’am. I appreciate it.” 

Thank God for housekeeping. In one hour the room would return to pristine condition for another romp or relaxation. A night of good food and better drinks would decide their fate for them.

-------

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi! Can I please request a poly!Marauders x reader where the reader has a secret admirer? The reader is receiving anonymous gifts and letters, making the boys anxious and jealous. If not, it's okay! Thank you, author-san!

omg i love this! thank you so much, baby, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: jealousy and possessiveness, borderline harassment and stalking, hickey

1.1k words

You groaned loudly when you opened the front door only to be greeted by yet another bouquet of flowers. You begrudgingly brought the arrangement into the house, setting it on the countertop. 

"Again? That’s like the third this week, and it’s only Wednesday." Sirius said, exasperated and (almost) as annoyed as you. 

"Fifth, actually." You hated that you were complaining, you knew you were technically very lucky to receive all these gifts, it was just distressing. And to be frank, getting very old.

"Christ, this person is thirsty." Sirius’ voice was strained, clearly more anxious than he was wanting to let on. 

"At least it seems they don’t have much of a chance, anyone worth their salt knows that you hate roses, angel." James said, between mouthfuls of his sandwich. 

"I know," You cringed. "Who should I give these to this time? Lily has enough flowers to open a shop" You rolled your eyes. "Speaking of," You reached into your work bag and pulled out two boxes. "There were chocolates at my work when I got there yesterday, and a pair of earrings on monday." You walked over to where Remus and Sirius were cuddled on the couch. 

“Geez, dove. Are we gonna have to step up our game?” Remus said, voice tinged with jealousy. 

"No, this person needs to step down. Or at least give me a return address or something. All the notes say is ‘from someone who appreciates you, xx.’ It’s actually kind of distressing." You handed the smaller box of earrings to Sirius, "Are these your style, honey?" 

"What? You don’t want them?" He sounded surprised. Of course you didn’t! Why would you need presents from a random person when you have three boys who give you all the love you could ever need? (and in the way you like it)

"No, I would feel weird wearing them." You cringed, handing the larger box to Remus. "You can have these, I don’t even like cherry chocolate." Remus took the box like it was filled with poison, a disgusted tilt to his lips, just as Sirius dramatically dropped the jewelry box onto the coffee table. 

"I don’t know whose grubby paws have been on this box." He sneered. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, looking over to James who was still in the kitchen. He had set his sandwich down and was looking like a kicked puppy. It made your heart crack.

"Jamie, what’s wrong baby? Come here." You beckoned him over. He rushed to your side, placing his hand protectively on your shoulder and gripping you tight. You looked at your other two boyfriends, Remus’ jaw was clenched tight and Srius was still looking at the box and scowling. 

"I jus’ don’t like it." James said from your side, his voice was small like a child's. 

"Wait, hold on," You said, "Are you all actually worried about this?"

"Define ‘worried’ lovely," Remus said, his voice an awful mix of venomous and depressed. “I don’t think any of us like knowing there’s someone out there fighting for your affections.” His eyes had an angry glint to them. 

“Guys,” You said, your heart only breaking further. “You have nothing to be worried about, okay?” James’ grip tightened on you. “There is absolutely no competition here, I’m not even giving these the time of day. I don’t want anything to do with the gifts or the person sending them.” 

“But you would if we weren’t in the picture.” Sirius said quietly, all too insecure for your liking. You wormed your way out of James’ grasp, resulting in a whine being pulled from his throat, to crouch in front of Sirius. You grabbed his pretty face in your hands, looking into his sad eyes. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m not impressed by these gifts.” You took a deep breath, not wanting to confess the next part and worry your boyfriends worse. “They actually kind of scare me.” You admitted, making all their eyes snap to you. 

“Scared? Of what, darlin’?” James piped up. 

“I just,” You cringed. “I don’t like knowing that there is someone this obsessed with me and I don’t know who they are. And that they know where I live and where I work. I mean, who knows how much they know?” 

“Well now I feel like an arse.” Sirius grabbed you from the floor and hauled you onto the couch with him and Remus, wrapping himself tightly around you. “Here I was thinking this person was gonna get you away from us, not knowing they were worrying you.” 

“You’re not, I promise!” You reassured. “Honestly, if there was someone doing all this for you three I would be really jealous too.” You placed a hand on two of your boyfriends’ thighs, looking over at James, who was still sulking, now sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “But I can assure you, even if I found out who this person was, they, and no one else, would be able to take me from you three. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy. Besides, I don’t like stalkers.” You joked. 

Remus pulled you closer to him, gentle but still much more aggressive than usual. Your other two boyfriends had settled, but he was still heated. 

“Remmy,” You turned to face him. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about.” 

“I know,” He grunted, burying his face into your neck. You wanted to shrink at the ticklish feeling but you allowed him to stay there, knowing he needed it. Remus had a jealous streak, perhaps the most of all your boyfriends. James and Sirius were more subtle in their protectiveness, but Remus started marking you all like a wolf anytime someone let their gaze linger too long. You buried your fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp, trying to relax him. 

“As soon as I find out who this is I will get them to stop, I promise.” You said vehemently. You looked guiltily at all your boyfriends, “I’m sorry this is happening, it isn’t fair to you all.” 

“It’s not your fault, dolly.” Sirius placed his hand on your back. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you aren’t asking for this.” You were about to hug him, but Remus held fast around your waist, you started to protest, but you felt Remus’ lips latch to a spot on your neck, nibbling and sucking hard enough to sting, but not hurt. The sound you let out was half giggle and half moan.

“Christ, Moons!” James barked, “You trying to brand them or something?” The three of you started giggling like children. Remus released your skin from his teeth, observing the red and purple splotch that was left in his wake. 

“Gotta make sure they know what’s mine.” He said, possessively. “Don’t worry," His eyes glinted furiously at your two other boyfriends, "you two are next.” 

[tangylemonade]

NO ONE ELSE

Jeonghan x afab reader

(The reader wears feminine clothes and is referred to as pretty etc.)

18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Word count: 9.7k

꧁ ☂︎ (angst) & ⚠︎ (smut) w/ a pinch of ☁︎ (fluff) ꧂

WARNING: unprotected sex (don't forget the casing before you stuff your sausage), kidnapping, cursing, description of abuse, Jeonghan smokes, Jeonghan’s in a gang, mentions of injuries, reader has toxic parents. Please let me know if I missed anything.

P.s. I am aware that it’s no longer recommended to wrap fractured ribs but my goodness let me have this （•‿•）

You were never a one night stand kind of person.

It felt too… vulnerable. Too scary.

You didn’t know how to just give yourself to someone you don’t even know. To trust them with a raw view of you. To trust them with something so intimate.

It had been a long week. A long month. A long year.

You were beyond exhausted and quite honestly ready for a change.

Falling asleep filled with that expensive bottle of wine you never felt special enough to drink you woke up with a fire in your heart. A spark that needed kindling.

And now on this tepid Wednesday morning while you laid in bed long past your alarm you felt more energized than ever.

Getting up you showered before finally checking your phone. Your boss called and you had a few text messages from your coworkers.

You lied about being up all night with fever and called out sick. You’d never done anything of the sorts before so no one even questioned it. One coworker even offered to bring you soup which you politely declined.

You did a face mask that claimed to plump your skin and after that you put on a little makeup. Standing in a lingerie set you bought at some point for a boyfriend you never even slept with, you tried on your only pair of heels.

No one would see you like this tonight except yourself but you didn’t mind at all. It still made you feel sexy, something you hardly thought about yourself.

Digging in the depths of your closet you found that one dress you kept tucked away for special occasions. Your heart did a little flip thinking that maybe it didn’t fit anymore but thankfully with a little shimmy as you pulled up the form fitting dress it still fit like a glove.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way out the door you did a double take. The dress fit you perfectly, accentuating your every curve nicely. Your hair was done and all together with some makeup on you felt pretty. The prettiest you’d felt in a long long time.

You couldn’t help smiling.

Rasasy was a small restaurant that you’d often pass by but never went into. It always looked lovely and quaint and the scent would carry through the street making you hungry on your way home.

It was quiet with a few people enjoying their dinners while chatting away happily with their partners.

The food took its time coming as it was cooked upon order but it was completely worth it.

Taking another bite you looked around taking in the atmosphere. Soft piano music was playing quietly and the booth you were sitting in was warm and cozy.

You found yourself looking to see if you were the only person eating alone. In a beat your eyes locked with a man who must’ve been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Sitting alone at the table to your right he took a sip of his red wine before giving you a disarming smile.

Without too much unnecessary thought you smiled at him and went back to your meal with your heart a flutter.

When you were finished you called the waitress to ask for the check. While you waited you glanced over at the beautiful man’s table but he was gone.

Your heart sank a bit and you shook your head laughing at yourself. What would you even say anyway?

“The bill was already paid for.” The waitress said with a smile.

“Paid for? Why? By who?” you said.

Somehow you already knew.

“The gentleman at table 3. He requested that you’d be given this note as well.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, feeling a little giddy.

The waiter simply smiled with a knowing twinkle in her eyes before heading away.

You waited until you got in your car, buckled in, started it, and took a deep breath before mustering the courage to unfold the note and read it.

-

Hello gorgeous

I didn't want to bother you because you looked so peaceful. I’d love to join you next time.

Jeonghan

+82-3-067-1005

-

The handwriting was a little sloppy yet had a unique elegance to it.

As you moved the paper you caught a whiff of a heavenly scent. Was that how he smelt?

Something regal…like an aromatic green tea and…. cigarettes. Not the cheap kind, the expensive ones that smelled sweet and warm.

“Oh who am I kidding.” You said to yourself with a wistful sigh before tucking the note into your bag. You often talked to yourself aloud to sort your thoughts.

“The lighting at the restaurant was very dim and romantic. Maybe he’s just drunk and lonely. Maybe he’s just playing a game. Maybe he has fun every night and I seemed like an easy target because I was alone and looked pitiful.”

But then a different thought popped into your head.

It came as a whisper.

‘Maybe… just maybe he wants to get to know me.’

The little thought echoed through your head silencing the others while turning your face vibrant with warmth.

Tomorrow. You’d call tomorrow.

☾

Pacing back and forth you couldn’t decide when the moment was right.

What if he thinks you’re a freak for calling so early? Maybe you should wait another day so you don’t seem desperate. Maybe you should’ve called last night and he doesn't even remember you. Maybe you could just text him? Maybe…

You hit call and squeezed your eyes shut while the phone rung.

“Hello?”

A voice filled your ear, soft and smooth

“Oh sorry Hi! Uhm this is Y/N. From last night. You gave me your number…” you heard yourself starting to ramble and wanted to die.

“Wow! I didn’t think you’d call.”

Your face fell in horror.

“Oh my I’m so sorry I-“

“I’m happy you did. I was sure you thought I was a weirdo or something. I felt so stupid but I figured you were worth the try.”

Your words caught in your throat while you tried to process everything.

“Hello? Are you still there?” He asked tentatively over the line.

“Yeah.”

Your words came out in a bit of a whisper.

“Perfect! So… do you want to get coffee or…”

“Yeah. Oh uhm yeah coffee would be- I could always drink coffee.”

“Are you busy? We could meet up today?”

“No, I'm off. How about Colvers? It’s new but I heard they make good coffee and the sandwiches aren’t half bad.”

“That sounds great! How does 2:30 sound?”

“Great!”

You caught yourself sounding a little too enthusiastic and tried to tone it down. “So.. I’ll uhm see you there?”

“See you.” He said with a light chuckle before hanging up.

A date. You have a date. A beautiful, gorgeous date.

“I’m gonna vomit!” you declared, collapsing on your bed with a groan.

You laid there for a little bit playing in your hair and suddenly giggling like a little school girl before hopping up and heading to the shower. You hummed the whole way through as you dolled yourself up and sorted through your things in an attempt to find the best and prettiest casual clothing you owned.

Checking the time you did your final touches before rushing out the door in fear of being late even though you were leaving early.

You arrived 30 minutes early and thanked god for your insight because it was a little busy but you still managed to find a good table.

You ordered their signature sandwich as a late breakfast, hoping you could finish it before he got there.

The sandwich took a little while to come but god was it worth it. You chewed with your eyes closed, savoring the warm and spicy goodness.

“Can I have a bite?”

You nearly choked as your eyes flew open at the sound of a smooth and sultry voice.

You quickly chewed and swallowed, taking a swig of your water. Your eyes pricked with tears as you forced the not fully masticated bite down.

“Have you considered filming a commercial? The way you’re eating makes that look really good.” He said with a smile that made you feel a little (a lot) hot around the collar.

“Sorry. I skipped breakfast.” You sort of mumbled as you self-consciously set your sandwich on your plate. “I don't drink coffee well on an empty stomach so I figured I’d eat before you got here.”

“Same. Can I have a bite?”

You blinked at him. “A bite?”

“Can’t I?” He did a head tilt that would’ve seemed innocent if not for that sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

You nodded slowly and slid the plate towards him with a hand that was now shaking a bit.

He picked up the sandwich, turning it around and looking at it before taking a bite right where you had.

Your mouth watered as you watched him chew.

Fighting yourself to look back at his eyes you saw something mischievous reflecting back at you that sent your skin fluttering with goosebumps.

He chewed slowly before swallowing and swiping the corner of his lips with his thumb.

“This really is good.”

“Yeah uhm.. do you want to order one…” you said, raising your hand to call the waiter.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it down to the table with a smile.

“Nah it’s okay. I’ll just steal more of yours, only if you don’t mind of course.”

He looked at you waiting for a response.

“Oh I don’t mind.” You said, not entirely sure why it didn’t bother you when you weren’t normally a big sharer. That was one of the reasons you were so lonely. It feels hard to give these days.

The waiter brought over an icy glass, setting it in front of Jeonghan and physically cutting the tension that was building as you watched him take another bite.

He sipped the cold glass of tea, his pink lips wrapping around the straw.

“What is it?” You asked as you picked up the sandwich and took a bite, your bite overlapping with his. You internally rolled your eyes as your heart did a little skip. What were you, in grade school?

But why did the sandwich taste even better this time?

“Iced green tea w/ honey and half cream. It’s good.” He said while pushing the glass towards you.

“Ohh sounds good.”

You weren’t sure if it really did sound good or if the thought of wrapping your own lips around his straw was clouding your common sense.

What in the world was this man doing to your dormant and CLEARLY desperate body?

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him and catching his gaze again.

Without a second thought you put your lips around his straw taking a quick sip, the cool drink washing through your now hot body.

Jeonghan watched you for your reaction and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicker to your pursed lips.

“Oh it is good. Maybe I should order that instead of a coffee.” You said. The tea was not too sweet and pleasantly refreshing.

“I’m telling you. You have a future in advertising.” He said with a shake of his head and a dangerous smile. So charming it disarmed you and suddenly you were smiling too.

If you from a week ago saw you now she would have a heart attack.

You didn’t end up ordering your own tea. You shared his drink with him leaning in to take sips and exchange wistful conversation.

Here you were sitting with a complete stranger sharing spit before you even learned each other's last names.

☾

“So tell me more about yourself? What do you do for work?” He asked, walking alongside you, his hand gently brushing into yours as you stepped in sync.

It was a beautiful day and Jeonghan had suggested a park date. You went on a couple dates before but you always picked activities. Not as much talking time as there was physical bonding like pottery classes and movies. You two finished a quick picnic of sandwiches before going for the walk. It felt nice to talk with him in such a relaxed way as you strolled side by side along the sunny path.

“I work in banking.” You said with shrug

“Ohhh sounds fun.” He teased.

You laughed. “Ehh. It’s not bad and it pays well enough. What about you?”

You did a quick intake of the man walking beside you.

His shoulder length black hair was silky and smelled of a soft warm scent every time he turned his head to talk to you.

His slender stature was fitted in crisp yet simple black jeans and tee that you knew could only be from an expensive store.

“Family business. Nothing exciting like banking but hey.” He said with a chuckle.

“That’s nice! It's just me here so it can get pretty lonely.”

“Even with family it can also get pretty lonely. Do you have any close friends?”

You shrugged before awkwardly laughing “Do you count?”

Jeonghan playfully knocked his shoulder into yours. “Absolutely I do.”

You stopped and looked at him, smiling softly before shaking your head.

“What?” He said with his signature head tilt.

“What planet are you from Yoon Jeonghan?”

He laughed and turned his body fully towards you, leaning against a nearby tree. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just such…a- a.”

“Weirdo?”

You laughed. “What? No! You’re such a treat.”

His smile dropped a bit before quickly lifting into a smirk. You saw an indistinguishable emotion in his eyes that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Sorry. It’s just I- I’ve sortve been living in this weird little me bubble and the one day I suddenly decided to pop it you showed. It felt like fate… I mean you’re just so lovely…” Your voice trailed off. Your face was burning bright as Jeonghan's eyes watched you intently.

The breeze flittered his hair into his face as if it too couldn’t resist the desire to caress him.

“You’re trouble aren’t you?” He asked in an almost whisper.

“What? Me? Hardly. Besides, I’m not the one giving my phone number on flirty notes to strangers.” You smiled, playfully poked his arm as you spoke.

“Well a beauty like you is non-ignorable. I had no choice.”

“No choice huh.” You continued to quip in an attempt to distract your body from its desire to overheat in Jeonghan's intoxicating presence.

“What? Do you just hit on every pretty girl you see?”

He held your hand that you hadn't realized was still resting on his arm and pulled you closer to him.

“Oh! That reminds me…” he said, moving his right hand and puling something from his pocket.

It was a small blue box that he opened right away and showed you.

You gasped. “These are so beautiful Jeonghan. I can’t-“

“You most certainly can. And you can put them in right now.”

“No. I can’t except something so expensive.”

“It’s okay, I won them at a work raffle. I promise it’s okay.”

“Jeonghan…”

“Please. I wasn’t going to wear them anyway.” He said with a soft chuckle. “Besides, they would look too beautiful on you for anyone else to wear them.”

Carefully he placed the gift in your hands and rested his hands on your waist, holding you close.

You looked at the breathtakingly gorgeous emerald green studs a moment longer before carefully placing them in your ears. You didn’t own a single piece of jewelry. It was one of those luxuries you buy do for yourself and no one had ever gifted you.

Emotions swelled in your heart as you looked into Jeonghan’s eyes.

His gaze was so intense you thought you might combust on sight.

The sun was setting, painting a heavenly glow against his smooth gorgeous skin.

You leaned in before he did your lips touching his. He pulled you even closer to his invitingly warm chest as he fell into your lips embrace. Pulling back he cradled your face and gazed at you for a moment. Again his lips devoured yours as the kisses quickly filled you with ecstasy.

Eventually you both had to take a moment to breathe, his soft breath tickling your nose as he rested his forehead to yours.

You lifted your hand to his cheek while your other hand's fingers laced through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, pulled him in for another delicious taste.

His kisses spread heat through your body leaving you feeling dizzy and thoughtless.

He was completely and totally intoxicating. Green tea and cigarettes mixed with a soft scent you now knew to be him.

The tickle of his tongue on your lips was a magic spell telling your body to open to him and you complied. You pressed into him craving more as his nimble fingers pushed patterns into your skin like a sinful tattoo.

“Wow.” You whispered breathlessly.

He laughed. “I agree.”

Jeonghan looked up at the dimming sky.

“When did it get so late?” He said, concern evident in his voice. “ Let me drive you home.”

“What about my car then? I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” You were still feeling loopy off of him and couldn’t stop smiling.

“Then let me walk you to your car.”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and walking alongside him with a smile still warming your face.

☾

Jeonghan would sometimes text you good morning messages that had you feeling all giddy throughout the day. You found yourself smiling so much your coworker giggled and whispered to you “Someone is getting laid huh?”

“Oh stop.” You said swatting her away from you as you blushed thinking about how good Jeonghan probably could make you feel if his kisses had you this buzzed.

A couple weeks blew by and you talked nearly every day, both of you being too busy to meet up.

Holding your takeout in one hand and your bag and keys in the other you hummed while you tried to maneuver your house key into your hand.

A chilling breeze alerted your skin with goosebumps and you felt uneasy. Turning around you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary so you quickly and anxiously opened your door and ran inside. You locked both locks while trying to steady your pounding heart. Just then your phone rang causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You checked the caller ID. Why was Jeonghan calling so late? He never called at this time.

“Jeonghan?” You said through the line.

“Are you okay?” He said quickly, his voice sounding quick and low.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just got home. About to eat dinner.”

“Can I see you?”

“Now!?”

“Is that okay?”

“Well…”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. Just…you’re okay right?”

“Yeah I’m okay. Why? What’s going on?” You asked, your voice sounding as shaky as you were feeling.

“No reason. I’ll leave you to your dinner-“

“No! I mean- uhm…come over.”

“Are you sure?”

He sounded so exhausted and it made your heart pang.

“Of course. I’ll text you my address.”

It was more than just wanting to see him, you were still feeling scared and you couldn’t shake the uneasiness despite telling yourself that you were just being silly. You wanted Jeonghan to hold you and make everything okay.

You paced back and forth in your kitchen until you heard the *pling* *pling* of your doorbell. You rushed to check through the peephole, the pit in your stomach beginning to unknot at the sight of the beloved man standing outside, his hair blowing in the night air, obscuring his face .

You quickly opened the door with a smile on your face.

“Come in, it's freezing out.” You said pulling him in by his hand without another look.

He kicked off his shoes hurriedly as you pulled him all the way into your kitchen and ran to the pan you had heating on the stove.

“Sit down. Did you eat dinner? I got takeout. It’s nothing fancy but I was just about to eat. It’s probably cold now so I’m just gonna heat it up except my microwave is broken and so I have to use a pan which actually is better because then it tastes…”

You had your back to him while you rambled and you suddenly felt his slender arms wrap around you, cutting your words short as they fell back down your throat, transforming into butterflies in your stomach.

He rested his head on your shoulder and let out a sigh that sounded like he had the weight of the world crushing him.

“Jeonghan?” You held his hand and tried to turn around but he gently held you still.

Looking down you noticed his knuckles. They were bruised and bloodied!

“Are you okay?” You asked, worry flipping your heart and sending it pounding against your rib cage.

After turning off the stove you grabbed his arm and this time he didn’t resist as you lifted it, turning toward him.

A gasp fell from your lips at the sight of his beautiful face…battered and bruised. He licked his busted, swollen lip and smiled at you, wincing a bit from the pain.

“Oh my god! How did I not…Jeonghan what happened!” Your hands flew up to his face but only hovered, scared to hurt him any more than he already was. Jeonghan grabbed your hands, pulling them close and resting them on his chest, against his pounding heart.

“Family troubles.” He said with a crooked smile.

You sat him down at your table before quickly leaving to grab your first aid kit.

Opening the box you hesitated as you looked at the over-supplied kit your coworker bought you as a housewarming gift unsure what to even use.

“An ice pack would be great.” He said, helping you along with a humorous lilt to his voice that didn’t fit the situation.

“Right, sorry.”

You quickly rushed to your freezer and grabbed your ice pouch you bought at some point for your headaches and quickly tossed it to the back of your freezer when you realized it was of no help.

Gently you brought it to his cheek, pressing it slowly to gauge his pain.

“Sorry.” You said pulling back when he winced. “Does that hurt too much?”

“Not when you do it.”

He smiled again, gently holding on to your waist.

“Sorry. You’ll have to hold this while I clean your lip.”

He took the ice pack, his warm fingers playing with your now cold ones.

Grabbing ointment you put some on a cotton swab before leaning over and dabbing it gently on his pretty lips.

You looked up at Jeonghan, your eyes meeting his as he looked down at you.

In an attempt to catch your breath when you first arrived home you had unbuttoned a few buttons of your blouse. Right now he had a clean view down your shirt and into your barely there bralet that you wore on long days because bras drove you crazy and this one was comfortable. Comfortable and basically see through.

You didn’t mind at all and made no effort to move as you continued tending to his cuts.

“Anything else?” So asked softly.

You noticed a bruise peaking through the black silk of his shirt.

Jeonghan stared at you for a moment thinking through his next course of action. With a pensive expression he unbuttoned his shirt all the way, revealing litters of purple marks all over his upper torso.

“Oh m- Jeonghan, I'm not a doctor! You need to go to the hospital.” You felt tears stinging your eyes as the night's emotions already began to bubble over.

“No need. Nothing's broken. I’ll be fine.” He held your hand as he spoke, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You felt his warm body shiver as you delicately traced the injuries on his skin with cool fingers. Jeonghan rested his hand on your hips, tentatively pulling you closer.

“I feel better already.” Jeonghan whispered.

His low voice sent tingles through every fiber of your essence.

“Jeonghan. What happened? Please...”

His hands rushed to your face, cradling it and catching your falling tears with his thumb.

“There are things that need to be done. When they don’t get done it’s only natural to pay the price.”

“What does that mean Jeonghan?” Frustration twisted with worry in your voice. “Do you need help?”

He shook his head.

“It means that I will do everything within my power to keep you safe.”

“Jeonghan…You’re scaring me.”

“It’s gonna be okay y/n.”

He sweetly gazed up at you, stroking your cheek. You found yourself leaning closer, seeking the warmth and comfort you knew he could give you.

Your lips touched, not as a kiss but rather to simply feel each other, the emotions passing between you stronger than words could understand.

With a tilt of Jeoghans chin he kissed you softly at first against your trembling lips. His hands firmly pulled you closer, your body slotting between his legs as he deepened the kiss. Your tongue caressed his bottom lip and you tasted his blood in your mouth as he opened himself to you desperately.

His fingers hungrily wandered, leaving fire in their path.

Immediately undoing the rest of your buttons you slid your shirt off your shoulders, dropping it on the floor beside Jeoghans.

His hands squeezed your thighs encouraging you to straddle him.

“Are you..” you could barely speak as Jeonghan continued kissing you. “…sure it won’t…mhhh…hurt?

His only response was a moan against your lips before he pulled you into his lap, putting an end to your hesitation. Feeling worrisome about touching his injured body you laced your fingers through his hair.

Your hips took the lead pressing against the hardness that was growing in his slacks. He groaned into your neck where he had now begun to kiss and suck the sensitive skin, a moan vibrating against your throat.

Jeoghan placed your hands against his chest, letting you know that it was okay to touch him.

Your skirt was now lifted and sitting at your hips leaving only the thin barrier of your underwear now dampened with your arousal. Sliding down your bralette he littered your breast with licks and kisses.

Undoing the button of his pants your shaky hands struggled with the zipper before finally pulling his cock from the dreadfully difficult blockade that was his clothing.

“Fuck…” he breathed against your skin as you gently circled his tip, collecting the percum and stroking down his length.

His hands shot down to your aching core seeking to return the favor. He played with your swollen bud over damp underwear earning moans from you that had his cock twitching in your grasp. He slid your panties aside, slowly slipping two fingers into you.

Jeonghans hands were as nimble and graceful as they looked and you wondered if you would last much longer.

He pulled from inside leaving you aching with protest before you felt the tease of his tip to your dripping pussy lips. Standing to make it easier you watched as he guided his pretty pink cock into you, his length slowly disappearing until you were back flush against his lap.

With how long it had been since your last relation combined with his delicious size, you weren’t surprised by the pain of the stretch. Your eyebrows furrowed as you adjusted. Jeonghan kissed the corner of your lips, his hands massaging your hips while you breathed through the moment. Despite the twitch of his cock which you felt against your sensitive walls Jeonghan didn’t move, allowing you to take the lead.

He buried his face into your breasts, a string of swear words on his breath as your tight walls squeezed his throbbing cock.

When you began to rock he had to fight to steady his breathing before he blew it right then and there.

It truly had been too long for you. It didn’t take much more of his cock pressing all the right spaces in you before an orgasm came pulsing through your body. Jeonghan struggled to focus as he fought through the euphoric feeling of your fluttering pussy so that he could watch the scene that was you unraveling against him.

The beauty of your flushed face, kiss swollen lips, dazed eyes, and your softly furrowed brows had Jeonghan seeing stars.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you caught your breath.

Jeonghan waited until your heart calmed against him before he secured your hips in his hands and began lifting into you.

Shivers flittered down Jeonghan's spine as you moaned loud and clear in his ear.

Your feeling of overstimulation washed into the building of pleasure once again.

His hips began to stutter as he built closer to his release. You moved along with him and it wasn’t long before your walls were squeezing and pulsing around him again, this time pulling his orgasm into you in hot ropes. He rutted inside a few more times before wrapping his arms around your body and holding you close. You both began to settle from your high, the reality of the moments setting in.

Jeoghan was in your kitchen half naked and covered in bruises with his cock buried inside of you.

You must be going crazy because right now as you rested in his arms you felt safer than ever.

☾

You woke up to an empty bed despite falling asleep in Jeonghan's arms. The memory of you guys pulling off the rest of your clothes and stumbling to bed played through your mind.

Your stomach growled, reminding you that you skipped dinner.

You rolled over to see a note where Jeonghan had been.

~

Sorry I had a few things to handle.

There’s breakfast on the table.

I hope I didn’t make you late for work ^_^

~

You smiled not even caring that you were absolutely going to be late.

The bathroom mirror was still a bit fogged over when you looked in it. You touched your earring and smiled to yourself.

“I should’ve woken up earlier and showered with him.” You said to yourself regretfully, quickly showering so you could enjoy the breakfast he left to you. The towel he used was slightly damp and it smelled like him. You used it to dry off even though you had more than one and hurriedly lotioned and got dressed.

Jeonghan had left you a coffee that was still warm and a breakfast sandwich from Clovers. You thought your face would break from how much you were smiling but you couldn’t help that soaring feeling on your heart as you grabbed the food and headed out the door.

☾

The hairs on your neck stood up tall as you walked toward your house. It was the same stressed and scared feeling you felt the other night. The streets were being cleaned in the morning so you had to park farther down. You walked quickly as nerves began to set in halfway home. Glancing behind you you saw nothing but when you turned back around you crashed into a big tall man. You were unable to see his face before someone grabbed you from behind, holding a damp cloth over your nose until everything started to blur. You fought and fought with all your fading might, dropping your things on the ground before your body fell numb and everything went black.

Awakening to the ringing sound in your ears you squeezed your eyes tighter to gather your bearings. Examining yourself you found a bandage wrapped around your wrists and chest. It hurt as you breathed in. Your attempt to sit up was cut short by your body collapsing back on the bed, pain shooting throughout and settling into your head as a heinous migraine.

Cautious breaths were your anchor as you slowly looked around the dark room. Adjusting to the dark you noticed the faint orange glow of a cigarette burning by the window.

Fear ripped through your heart as every alarm fired off in your head.

You weren’t alone.

Using all of your strength you pushed your back against the headboard as you felt around for anything that could be used as a weapon. A gentle breeze from the open window blew through, bringing a familiar scent to greet your nose.

“J-Jeonghan?” Fear turned into confusion and then terror.

“You’re awake?” His voice came, soft and warm like a blanket covering you.

He stood up and stepped closer to you revealing the slouch of his tired frame. Bathed in blue light you could see fresh cuts and bruises on his face.

“Here, drink this.” He said offering you a water bottle.

You only just noticed how thirsty you were but you shook your head and pushed your body further away from him.

“Please, you must be thirsty. It’s unopened.” He said, switching on nightstand light and showing you the sealed bottle.

You took a moment to mull it over before tentatively accepting the drink. Your action was cut short as pain shot through, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself.

Jeonghan rushed beside you, his hands instantly resting on your arms as his concerned eyes scanned your body. Save for the bandages around your chest and ribs your upper torso was bare, revealing the dark brushing that littered your upper torso.

“Let me help you.”

Jeaoghan opened the bottle and brought it to your mouth, his hand gently cradling your face carefully avoiding you painful bruise on your chin. Without hesitation you parted your lips allowing him to pour a few sips into your mouth. Your throat rejoiced at the relief while your stomach made you aware of its hollowness with a growl.

Jeonghan gazed down at you in his close proximity.

“What's going on?” You shakily whisper to him. “Everything hurts so…ugh…so much.”

A frown wrinkled Jeonghan’s beautiful face at your words and he looked away in shame.

“…Jeonghan?”

“You're safe. Rest here for a few days and then I’ll relocate you somewhere more comfortable. Kim will come later tonight.”

You blinked at him, no sound able to leave your mouth as you tried to process the moment.

With that Jeonghan stood up, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You asked, panic and distress filling you at the thought of him leaving you here alone.

“Don't leave me.” Your voice broke and you saw him hesitate, his hand frozen on the lock.

“Kim will be here soon.” He said quickly before slipping out, shutting the door airily behind him.

About an hour passed before a small slender woman possibly in her mid 40s walked in with a suitcase in tow behind her

“Hello.”

Her voice paired with her warm motherly smile felt gentle and sweet.

“You’re already looking better!”

She switched on the room light finally allowing you a clear view of the high end hotel room you apparently were staying in.

Kim went to the bathroom and came back with a basin of water.

“May I?” She asked, placing the bowl on the nightstand and ringing out the cloth.

You nodded and she began by wiping your face and then your hands. It felt soothing and the tension you felt from a stranger being in your presence began to fade.

“What’s goin-“

Kim shook her head, cutting you off without a word.

You looked at her with pleading eyes and her eyebrows tensed.

“Listen here now darling, it probably won’t make much sense but you helped save a lot of lives. A lot of innocent women and children.”

She looked at you with a soft smile. “The work that the Yoon family does isn’t very pretty and sometimes it’s down right awful. But there are people out there who are worse. And hopefully this group of worse people won’t be able to hurt any more good people.”

You were angry now. “That’s nice and all Kim but that doesn’t explain anything.” You frowned, speaking through gritted teeth as your brain struggled to sort things that just weren’t making sense.

Your heart was pounding, your ears ringing, and you were begging to feel nauseous.

“Come on doll, let’s get you washed up.

You wanted to be noncompliant but unfortunately you could really use a shower and you didn’t think you had the strength to get to the bathroom on your own.

You simply grumbled a thank you as Kim helped you to the shower and turned on the water for you. You didn't even mind when she helped you out of your clothes and bandages. She left you alone after that, only popping in to give you some toiletries and clothing.

You sunk to the floor of the tub in tears as your world crashed around you not even caring that your sobs were louder than the patter of the water against you.

You woke up to the shuffling sound of Kim’s footsteps. There was a bowl of savory smelling porridge steaming on the nightstand.

“Good! You're up!” Kim said cheerfully, making her way over to you.

You need to get something in that stomach of yours.

Kim had helped you with your hair last night by drying and plaiting it for you. You remembered Kim’s gentle hands tangling through your hair while you numbly sat on the cold floor. She had to practically drag you to bed but the moment your head hit the pillow you were out.

You pulled the covers around you. You were still naked save for the bandages Kim rewrapped for you and underwear you’d struggled to pull on. There was a t-shirt on the bed for you and you quickly pulled it on. Kim stirred the porridge and brought the spoon to her mouth checking the temperature as if you were a baby.

She set the tray down in front of you and placed the spoon in the bowl.

“Eat up. Please. You need your strength to heal.”

•••

They had you for two nights… maybe even three.

You were brought to a gaudy bedroom littered with alcohol bottles in every corner.. You were left there alone for a few hours before a woman, possibly in her late twenties, showed up.

She was concerningly skinny with a face that was pretty despite the bags under her eyes and the obvious drug use that bruised her body.

She took a moment to circle the pole you were chained to before scoffing.

“You’re not even that pretty.” She grumbled before landing a blow to your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

She would come in periodically to throw insults at you and hit you before eventually falling asleep on the bed. She was always inebriated, her words slurring together as she hissed at you with hot breath that reeked of liquor.

On the last night you heard the commotion of guns and yelling. She heard it as well and rage boiled in her eyes as she screamed and hit you harder than before. You felt the sickening crack of your ribs as you gasped for air and tried to stay awake.

When everything stopped you thought maybe you had died.

But you felt the warmth of a body, the familiar scent of green tea and cigarettes filling your bloodied nose. Once the chains were removed you fell into your savior's arms, unable to stand on your own.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

•••

You finish the porridge and curl up in bed feeling exhausted even though you hadn't moved an inch. You turned your face into the pillow but you were too tired to even cry.

When you woke up this time it was dark out. Moonlight danced through the room caressing your bare skin. Your skin flitted with goose bumps and you shot up scanning the room, your eyes landing on the figure leaning against the windowsill.

You pulled yourself up and leaned against the headboard so you could face him while you spoke.

“I want to go home.” You said, your voice sounding shakier than you’d hoped.

Jeonghan sighed and out out his cigarette before walking towards the bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“It’s not safe.”

“And why is that Jeonghan?” This time your voice sounded just as venomous as you wanted it to, the rage finally stronger than your fear.

“You’ll need to lay low for a while until things calm down.” His eyes intently watched your glaring ones as he spoke.

“You won’t be able to go back to your job so I’ll help you find something new and until then your needs will be taken care of.”

You looked away first, cursing yourself for the way your body still fluttered under his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” You said as you fiddled with the blanket, rage subsiding and nervousness taking over again.

Jeonghan nodded.

“Why me? Did you really even…”

By now you had figured that it was all some twisted game that only you were missing the rules to. That you were just…bait?

He sighed again and rubbed his face tiredly before answering.

“You seemed…lonely. Like no one would notice if you went missing. You’re also very pretty.” He listed the reasons matter factly as if it was as casual as telling you the weather.

You wanted to protest but it was true.

Your family wasn’t just physically far away.

Your relationship with your mother and father became strained when you told them you didn’t want to keep sending money just for your little brother's addiction. They claimed it was for his rehab but he never went. Once they found his body you knew it was over. They blamed you and it was easier to leave entirely than deal with their constant bilgerance. When your job had a transfer available you didn’t hesitate. Sometimes at night you were haunted by the anger in your mothers eyes. To her, you were a witch who had killed her beloved son with your greed.

“That night that we... Why- why did you come to me? If I was just…if it was just…”

You couldn’t go on as the tears swallowed your words.

“Because I wanted to.” Jeonghan said nonchalantly.

You looked back at him with furious eyes.

“Listen.” He continued with a sigh, his tone more serious now. “ what happened- you didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in this. I’m sorry. Once I started to- I wanted to find another way.”

Emotions stormed through you, leaving you feeling confused and tired. Jeonghan's words offered little clarity, only giving way to more questions.

As Jeonghan watched your shaking eyes he wondered.

At what point did everything start feeling…real? At what point did he allow such a distraction to pull him away. It was never meant to be this way…and yet he found himself only thinking about you.

“What now?” You said, suddenly pulling Jeonghan from his thoughts. Your voice was soft against his tired mind.

“Safe house. Just for a moment while things settle. There’s still some cleaning up to do.”

You sighed and buried your face into the blanket.

A moment passed before Jeonghan spoke again.

“I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you. And that's a promise.”

For a reason only god knew, Jeonghan's voice still felt like a warm hug swaddling you tightly.

“Fuck. You.”

Your voice was muffled in the blanket but his sigh told you he heard you loud and clear.

That was the last bit of fight you had left. You already knew that no matter how messed up the situation was, you believed his every word.

☾

The next morning you left for the safe house. The drive was long and the roads were whindy and yet you napped in the back seat while Jeonghan silently drove.

Jeonghan found himself peaking in the rear view mirror often to catch a glimpse of your peaceful face.

‘There’s a special place in hell for people like me.’ He thought to himself.

Not wanting to wake you or have you wake up alone, Jeonghan waited in the car despite having arrived 2 hours earlier.

Your eyelids fluttered awake as the sun beamed through the open car windows. Jeonghan was still in the driver's seat quietly speaking on the phone. His eyes shot to the rearview and he gave you a smile. Unfortunately it was just as charming as ever.

“Yeah I’ll call you back.” He said into the phone and hanging up before getting out of the car and opening the door for you.

You nearly tripped on your way out the car as you took in the view around you. The gorgeously quaint cottage house was surrounded by miles of luscious land. There were chickens clucking around and to your far left there was a horse grazing. It was beyond beautiful. It was dream-esque and… secluded?

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” You asked seriously.

He chuckled butterflies straight into your stomach and shook his head.

“If I wanted you dead, why would I bring you here? Why not just leave you with Stella?

All you could do was shrug.

“Stella? So that is the person I need to thank for the bruises.” You said with a forced laugh.

Jeonghan's lips tightened into a thin line, a flicker of anger crossing his elegant features at the sound of Stella's nasty name on your pretty lips. "Don’t concern yourself with that" he muttered, his voice dressed in bitterness and disgust. "She's...been dealt with."

With that he walked away, closing the conversation.

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first before following and shutting the door behind you two. The house was lit beautifully golden with the sunsets glow.

You turned to him with your eyebrows furrowed.

"Dealt with?"

“The mouse pays for the cheese with it’s life.” He said with a nonchalant shrug as he walked to the kitchen

“Jeonghan!”

You raised your voice and crossed your arms feeling a bit like an indignant child.

“Hmm?” Jeonghan hummed back without even so much as looking at you. He was shuffling through the refrigerator.

“Did you use me as bait in some sort of twisted lovers spat?” You felt your blood boiling as your pulse quickened.

“Hardly.” Jeonghan said, his haphazard attitude now starting to tick you off.

“I’m already trapped in the middle of nowhere with you. The least you can do is look at me and give me a proper explanation!”

“Look.” He said suddenly slamming the refrigerator closed, walking towards you until he was so close you had to take a step back.

“Stella was never my lover or anything like that. She was some crazy bitch who we did trade with. The skank was fucking obsessed with me, always making advances. Anyway she was running some druggie club that took part in human trafficking and shit.”

He walked back to the kitchen now, angrily pulling things from the refrigerator while he spoke. You pulled yourself onto one of the counters and listened.

“You see it’s pretty well know that the Yoons don’t fuck with that kind of shit so we were obviously gonna be a problem. I guess her and a few other wannabes got together with a grand idea and put a hit on my family. To try and scare us off I suppose. We lost good men that night.”

He paused for a moment, his expression suddenly somber but he shook it off and continued.

“That was enough incentive to put an end to her shit but that rat was hard to find. Except I would get letters from her, sometimes super detailed with mentions of things that happened to me the night before. I had a little fun at Rosie’s House and the girl showed up the next day in bad shape. Told me I wasn’t welcome back anymore. That's when we got an idea.”

He stopped tossing out the old food from the refrigerator and turned to you before leaning against the counter, his arms on either side of your body.

Your breath hitch but you did your best to act unaffected by him.

“When I saw you at that restaurant I knew it would drive her crazy. You were absolutely stunning.” His eyes flickered across your body and your treacherous heart went leaping for him.

“It wasn't enough to sleep with you. She had to think I was really seeing you. That way she’d wanna snatch you up and figure out why, leading us right to her.”

He backed up and sighed. You took a few breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

He leaned against the opposite counter, eyes still watching you as he thought over his next words.

“…She actually found you pretty early on. The night I’d shown up…the night we…Shit was supposed to go down that night but…anyway I couldn’t show up after screwing shit up so I…went to you..”

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders. Looking down he began picking at a callous on his palm.

“How did you even find where she took me?”

He stood up straight and pointed to your ears before turning around and unpacking the new food he purchased during a pit stop on the way here.

“Are you hungry? There's some kimbap here if you’d like.”

You slowly touched your earrings as sadness pinched your heart..

“No thank you.” You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “ I’m gonna go and wash up.

“Oh right. Let me show you your room.”

Your room was cozy and spacious. Without waiting for him to leave you kicked off your shoes and pulled your sweaty shirt over your head, tossing it into the basket in a corner that said laundry on it.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Jeonghan said as he turned away to head out.

“Wait—“

He quickly turned back around, inquisition painting his face and he tried to rapid fire reasons in his brains as to why you’d ask him to stay while you pulled off your clothes.

“Can you help me wrap a new bandage?”

He nodded slowly. “Sure. Just call me when you’re done.”

You nodded and he left, closing the door behind him.

Did you really just ask him to wrap the bandage for you? You laid your face in your hands in exhaustion. ‘Whatever’ you told yourself as you pulled off the rest of your clothes. ‘Not like he hasn't seen them already.’

You reasoned with yourself and decided that shyness wasn’t worth losing sleep due to pain. Angrily you took out the earrings and tossed them somewhere on the floor.

You showered as quickly as you could with your sore body before drying off and lotioning as best as you could. You rummaged through the duffel bag of toiletries and clothes that Jeonghan had given you, putting on deodorant and slipping on a pair of panties and sweatpants. You wrapped your towel back around you and took a deep breath that you instantly regret when you felt the pain shoot through you. The pain was also a reminder to suck it up and go find Jeonghan.

You poked your head out of your door. “Jeonghan?” You called softly as you looked around the hallway.

When you didn’t get a response you walked towards the door across from yours and knocked. You heard movement inside the room and Jeonghan pulled open the door with a gentle smile on his face.

“Come in.”

He pulled open the door all the way and walked into the room. You hesitated for a moment and he looked back at you, amusement obvious in the twinkle of his eyes.

“Sit here.” He gestured to his bed where he had a first aid kit already open.

You scowled at him before shuffling into the room and sitting on the bed. You tried not to think about how pleasantly the room smelled of him.

Sitting next to you he faced you and waited. When you didn’t budge he lifted his hands towards your towel, stopping in front of your folded towel.

“May I?”

You nodded in response and set your arms down to your side.

He untucked the towel, letting it fall to your hips and revealing the tender skin underneath.

The room felt cold and your face burned hot.

When he bent down to pick up a jar of cream off of the floor you noticed the bright red of his ears.

He showed you the jar of medicinal cream before opening it and carefully scooping some with his fingers. “This will help with the pain, the healing, and the bruising. Kim makes it for me.”

You watched his hands move with careful elegance and he gingerly rubbed your bruises with the cooling cream. The strong medicinal smell was relaxing as he worked.

His movements were soft and graceful as he did his best to focus on his work and not your perked nipples or the soft rounds of your breast.

Unrolling the bandage he tenderly wrapped the stretchy material around your chest that now ached for more reasons than just bruises.

You couldn’t help exploring his face as he worked. His skin was smooth save for his chin that had a little light stubble on it. His warm brown eyes squinted as he focused on his task, long straight eyelashes fluttering with every movement. His pink lips pressed into a line while his nose would scrunch in concentration.

There was still an heinously undeniable connection that tethered you to him, an energy that left you feeling breathless and warm.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Jeonghan's eyes met yours, his gaze softening with emotions you felt all too intensely.

He was now working the bandage upward to your breast and you could feel his hands slow.

He continued wrapping, his calluses finger tips grazing against your nipples sending your nerves into a frenzy. You swallowed, keeping your eyes on everything except him until he was finished.

Already feeling hot and bothered you felt a sense of relief wash over you now that his careful ministrations were complete.

You went to stand and he stopped you with a hand on your arm. Opening the cream again he took more out and began rubbing it into the bruise on your arm.

His fingers felt heavenly against your skin as he rubbed more into another bruise on your shoulder.

“Turn around.”

You complied, turning on the bed and showing him your back. This time his touch made you shiver as his nimble fingers traced along your spine.

“Sorry, you must be cold. I’m almost done.”

You felt disappointment settled in as his fingers pulled away from your tender skin.

He stood up and went to his drawer, opened it and pulled out a shirt.

“Here. Lift your arms a bit.”

You complied and Jeonghan carefully guided your arms through each arm hole before pulling the shirt over your head.

Jeonghan sat down on the floor in front of you, pulling up your pant leg.

“What are you doing?” You asked but didn’t pull your foot away from his warm hand where he cradled it.

“I noticed you walk with a bit of a limp.” He replied softly as he rubbed the cream into your ankle before taking another bandage and wrapping the slightly swollen joint.

He closed the jar and handed it to you.

“If you find any more bruises, rub this on them.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t.” His voice was quiet and suddenly cold.

You looked down, meeting his heavy eyes. Your ankle still rested softly in his hands making for a tense atmosphere as he held your gaze.

The expression on his face was unreadable as he carefully let you go and stood up.

Grabbing your hand he pulled you towards him, his body pressed against yours, his face inches away, his other hand holding your waist firmly against him.

Unmoving you breathed in sync as if you both had finished a complicated dance together. You felt the pounding of his heart against the pounding of yours.

“Jeonghan…”

The way you called his name made his head spin.

He let you go and backed away.

“I put the food in the refrigerator.” He said heading for the door. “You are welcome to do whatever you want here.”

“Wait! Are you leaving?” Your voice came panicked as you followed him out of his room.

“I’ve got things to do. I’ll be back tonight.” He said as you trailed behind him down the stairs.

“But Jeonghan… please.” You pleaded. Feeling too vulnerable to finish the sentence.

He turned to you this time.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back-“

You cut him off with a kiss, your arms thrown around his neck. As his shock faded, he rested his hands on your face, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

Your lips were so soft against his and when you parted your lips he found your taste to be intoxicating.

Wrapped in the moment it took him a little bit to notice that suddenly your body was shaking.

Pulling back he saw the tears rolling down your face.

As you clung to Jeonghan with all your might you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that spilled out. Even after everything that happened he still felt so warm against you. As his arms wrapped around and pulled you close. you felt like everything would be okay.

Jeonghan held you just like that as you cried out the last couple weeks events.

In his arms your world crumbled.

So why was there nowhere else you wanted to be?

No one else you wanted to be with.

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PART 2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: why am I so anxious all the time?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

If Peggy’s party promised everything would change, the ‘yes’ you give to Arturo pays on that promise. Almost at once, everything is different. Your boring, orderly life is suddenly thrown into chaos. You have a hundred worries at once and not enough times; passport, visa, packing, flights. Not too mention all that you’re leaving behind; apartment, furniture, and... friends. 

It’ll be good. You keep telling yourself that, just like Arturo, just like Sam. They seem more excited than you are. You struggle to see past the grief of saying goodbye to the life you built there; the life you built around Steve and false hopes. It’s foolish and naive but it still hurts. 

And you’re scared. Norway. It’s far away. And you’ll be all alone. You survived college because you found Steve; you could stomach the furor of the city for Sam and Bucky, but on your own, what could you do? You’re not brave or bold or anything like that. 

It doesn’t matter. You’re going to work. To forget. Focus on the dig, don’t think about everything else. 

You’ve already lost so much. Steve’s busy, you are too. Maybe that’s good. You have to condition yourself for the trip. For a new life. A year is a long time. You feel like the newly graduated teen heading off to college, the one who walked into the wrong lecture hall on that fated day, the one he picked out and put firmly in her place; a friend, just a friend. 

As you sort through your closet, tossing fabric into one pile or the other, your music stops playing and your phone buzzes loudly against your nightstand. You hurry to pick it up as that noise makes your neck bristle. You hate it. 

You pick up without checking the display. You hope it’s the visa office. No, it’s Sam. 

“Hey, chicky poo,” he chirps from the other end. 

“Chicky poo?” You echo flatly. 

“Hm, you’re right, I’ll keep workshopping,” he chuckles, “so you’re leaving in a week?” 

“As long as my paperwork shows up,” you sighs and cross your arm over your middle. You sway as you look around at the clutter of your bedroom. “And I can get all this shit out of my place.” 

“When’s your flight?” He asks pointedly. He’s not subtle. Men never are. For years, you’d hoped Steve was being subtle and look how that turned out. You know now he was so obviously not into you.  

“Thursday, 5am,” you answer. 

“Ah, that’s pretty early to be hungover but it will be worth it.” 

“Hungover?” You wonder as you slowly sit on your bed, “why?” 

“You’re leaving us so obviously, you need a final hurrah,” he insists, “I’m throwing you a going away party. Just the four of us, unless you have any plus ones?” 

“Going away party?” 

“Neither of the other jerks are gonna do it,” he scoffs, “nothing fancy, promise. Just some drinks.” 

“What about Tuesday? Give me a day to recover?” 

“Wednesday works. Steve’ll be back by then.” 

“Back by then?” You must sound like a parrot. 

“Oh, yeah, the lovers went up north to look at venues for the engagement party. Too bad you won’t make it. I’ll have to drink myself into a stupour all by myself,” he intones. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you grumble and pick at a wrinkle in your pants. 

“Don’t be sorry. You deserve this. I’m so fucking excited for you,” he chimes, “you have to tell me everything. I want pictures of vikings and castles and stuff. All of it.” 

“Sam, I’m just going to be digging,” you mutter. 

“And? You can’t just go over there an put your head down. Go sightseeing, go out on the town, have a wild one-night stand--” 

“Sam,” you drone. 

“You need it,” he cackles, “it’ll be a story to bring home with ya. Make us all jealous with your wild Norwegian adventure. Hey,” he pauses and sucks his teeth, “you’re like Uno reversing a whole country. Vikings used to invade others, this is your chance to go right in there and raise hell.” 

“You’re stupid,” you laugh and shake your head. 

“Never said otherwise.” 

“Hm, fine, Wednesday,” you agree, “if I'm gonna be there, I gotta get all this shit packed.” 

“Did I not say if you need anything? I can help,” he offers. 

“No, no, I got it,” you say, “really, it’s not that much.” 

“Right, well, I should get back to it and let you do the same,” he says in a resigned tone. 

You hang up and heave. You put the phone down and drop your head into your hands. You feel like you should cry. You’ve felt that tide of tears pushing on your eyes since the party but they just won’t come. All that tension is driving you mad but you just can’t dislodge the nail driven deep into your chest. 

💟

Your life is hectic but you’re not surprised Steve isn’t part of the whirlwind. Why would he be? He has so much going on. A wedding is much more important than what could possibly be the most spontaneous and naive decision of your life. Impulsive more than anything. Cowardly when you think about it. You’re running away because you can’t face the truth. Because it’s just easy to leave your emotions in New York. 

Still, you thought you’d hear more than this. More than a thumbs up emoji or hearsay from Sam. Even after your conversation on the balcony and his reassurances, you still feel his discontent. Will he really miss you that much or is he just upset you won’t be there to celebrate the love of his life? 

It doesn’t matter, does it? 

It’s gone so fast and you hope the next year goes just as quickly. That all this passes. Not just the trip but everything else. The sadness, the pain, the fear. You try to be positive. You thought college was scary and look how that turned out. 

Ugh, you’re really doing this. You're leaving is all behind. You’re leaving your friends and your family and your home. You have no one to blame but yourself. You could’ve gotten over Steve Rogers a decade ago. More than that. You couldn’t rip the band-aid off, you had to pull it slow so ever hair rends painfully from the flesh. 

The GPS guides you between the shining marquee. You can see the pulsing dot of your destination on the screen. You don’t drive towards it, instead hunting for a parking spot among the cramped lots and lined curbs. You should’ve taken a cab but you’re only having one drink and you’re saving for the inevitable expense of hurling yourself halfway across the world. 

You get out and grab your phone, your purse hooked over your elbow. You raise the small screen and get your bearings, squinting as you set yourself in the right direction. Just across and at the end. 

As you approach the bar, you stop short. This isn’t exactly the flavour. Well, not for them. You peer up at the neon light in the shape of a martini, a bright pink beacon, under which a large group of women cluster. Whoops and hollers go up as they enter and leave you standing out in the technicolour-tinted night. Did you get the address wrong? 

You check your messages with Sam. No, it’s correct. Strange. Maybe he didn’t know. 

You pull open the violet-shaded glass door and peer around as you step out of the way of the patrons behind you. You text Sam to check if he’s there already. You can’t seem to keep up with the clock hands these days.  

As you wait for a response, you glance around. It’s like a Sex and the City reenactment. The guys always teased you for your rants about Carrie Bradshaw’s selfishness. They weren’t much for the genre. With them, it’s sports bars and beers and what ball game is in season. They never notice your cute new earrings or your efforts to spruce up your work clothes with a flashy belt. 

‘Here. You’re looking cute.’ Sam’s response comes.  

You narrow your eyes and stand on your toes to look around. He’s sitting at a tall table with Bucky, the two of them looking out of place before the feathered centerpiece and glitzy wall art of high heels. You can’t help a grin. This is absolutely ridiculous. 

You weave through the tables and bodies, past the bar of gabbing girl groups and a few men mixed in. You near your friends and claim one of the tall stools around the round table. You use the bottom bar to haul yourself up onto the seat and hang your purse from your knee. 

“Hey, this place is... sparkly,” you look around with a dumb smile. You can’t help it! You never get a girls’ night. 

“It is,” Bucky agrees in a grit. 

You stop short. You look at him then at Sam. You didn’t notice before. They’re wearing bows on their heads. Sam has a head band with a gregariously big pink ribbon, whereas Bucky has a glittering purple bow pinned into his thick locks. You laugh and smother it behind your hands. 

“What is this?” You snicker. 

“We are your ladies tonight!” Sam announces and shifts to stand, bending under the table, “and you get to be queen bee!” He reaches to the floor and you lean to see the huge tote underneath, “here is your tiara!” 

He pulls out the plastic tiara with fake pink gems and white feathers. You giggle again as he places it on your head. This is too much. 

“Sam! How—this is so stupid. You didn’t have to do all this.” 

“What? It’s about time. Don’t worry about us. It’s all about you,” he snaps his finger and points at you, “we’re going to order girly cocktails and dish on the cute dudes.” 

Bucky shakes his head as he fixes the bow in his hair, “I wanted a flower.” 

You bring your hands down to your next and wiggle on the seat giddily. This is amazing. Your eyes sting and your throat locks up. You’re going to miss these idiots. 

“You guys,” you breathe. 

“No crying!” Sam claps his hand, “I already got this guy moping around.” 

“I’m not moping,” Bucky sniffs. 

“We have to decide who’s who. I know you hate Carrie so we’ll save that for Steve. He is the stuck up blond, after all,” Sam smirks, “I’m definitely Samantha, it’s already in my name. And you,” he points at you, “Miranda. The level-headed one who has to put up with our BS. That means Bucky--” 

“Charlotte?” Bucky frowns, “can’t I be Stanford?” 

You nearly gasp, “Bucky, are you a stan?” 

“I’ve seen some episodes,” he shrugs. 

“Well, that’s decided,” Sam checks his watch, “where’s that bozo?” 

You frown and look around. You look at your phone. You were just on the cusp but Steve is late. Bucky takes out his cell too and all three of you scroll through your screens. 

“Whatever, we don’t have to wait for him, drinks,” Sam blacks the screen and sets down his phone. He reaches for the pink pleather drink menu, “I was looking at the Paradise Punch. Sounds interesting.” 

“Mm, I’m just having one,” you state, “I gotta drive home.” 

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. You can get your car tomorrow.” 

“Sam, I leave at five in the morning.” 

“Fine, I’ll take care of the car. You’re storing it, aren’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t expect--” 

“Tonight is going to be fun. No arguing,” he points a long finger at you. 

The phone jitters and his phone lights up. He picks it up as your cell remains lifeless in a rare moment of peace, though it’s fraught nonetheless. You peek over at the empty fourth stool. 

“He’s not coming,” you utter. 

Sam huffs and puts his phone down, “he’s not. Peggy has a work dinner and he’s invited.” 

“Oh,” you nod and try not to deflate entirely, “that’s... that’s fine. He said he’d come to the airport but I wasn’t counting on that either.” 

“Asshole,” Sam sneers. 

“Hey, no,” you shake your head, “he’s busy. He has a wedding and all that--” 

“You’re going away,” Bucky surprises you with the emotion in his tone, “and he can’t be here.” 

“Really, it’s not--” 

“It is,” Sam insists. “How long are you gonna let him walk all over you? Isn’t that why you’re leaving?” 

“It’s work, it’s nothing to do with Steve.” 

“Sure,” Sam accepts hotly, “keep telling yourself that.” He cringes and swallows, “tonight isn’t about him. For once. It’s about you. Us. Having fun. Saying goodbye. It’s gonna be terrible without you. I hope you know that.” 

You could laugh at his rebuke. The conflict between celebratory and reproachful is amusing. You exhale and put your hands up. 

“Alright, I got it.” 

“Buck,” he gestures to the other man, “go.” 

You turn to the Bucky and he slides off his stool. He reaches down under the table and brings up a gift bag. Your mouth falls open. Your chest tweaks, a mixture of glee and guilt. You’re happy to have friends with them but you feel so bad for not seeing it earlier. For being so tunnel-visioned that you couldn’t appreciate them fully. 

“This is so—you didn’t have to,” you say. 

“We did. Obviously,” Sam scoffs, “don’t worry, my gift is the grand finale.” 

“Right,” you smile and accept the bag from Bucky. You push through the tissue paper and pull out the heavy shape inside. You reveal it and just as quickly hide it back in the polka dot bag, “Bucky!” 

You let go of the taser and retract your hand. Sam guffaws and Bucky gives a confused grimace, “you need it.” 

“What?” You hiss. 

“You’re going to be all alone over there. You should be safe.” 

“I... appreciate the thought but it’s a bit extreme.” 

“He’s right,” Sam adds, “you know, going to the land of the vikings, you can never be too safe. I’ve heard they like to carry women off in their boats.” 

“You two,” you roll your eyes. 

“My turn,” Sam says, “you’ll love this.” 

He once more searches under the table and the tote crinkle. He pulls out an envelope and you tilt your head. Really? 

“Money?” You wonder. 

“What am I? Your grandma?” He snorts, “here.” 

You take the envelope and turn it over. You pull the flap open and reveal a pamphlet within, along with a second slip of paper. A reservation... 

“I found this place over there. It’s at some coastal castle, there’s a spa and all that. They do like ancient types of treatments, hot rocks or whatever,” he explains, “I made sure you can adjust the dates too if you need. You just have to call.” 

“Wow, that’s... Sam, I’m going to be so busy--” 

“I told you not to work yourself too hard. That’s a good excuse for you to get your head out of the dirt. Literally. Just think of me when you’re in a mud bath with a glass of champagne.” 

You put the envelope next to the gift bag and drop off the stool. You open your arms to them. Sam is up first and Bucky drags himself to his feet. You wrap them in a hug and they do the same in turn. It must be an absolutely ridiculous sight but you don’t care. You tuck your head against Sam’s arm and feel a rumble in Bucky’s chest. 

“Sam, that’s my ass,” Bucky snarls. 

“I was just making sure you didn’t forget your wallet,” Sam chuckles. 

“You’re a moron,” Bucky pulls away and shoves him. 

“Peas in a pod, bud,” Sam lets you go as the hug breaks up, “now, I need a drink and you...” he points in your direction, “need a double.” 

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 12

Welcome to act 2. These are going to be a rough set of chapters for Steve. I hate to do it, but I've got to get him low, to have Eddie build him back up.

If you've been following along to WIP Wednesday, you'll know (or at least suspect) that I'm nearing the end of act 2 and the return of Eddie.

Then I'm not sure how much longer it's going to be. It could be a couple of chapters. But it might be several.

Here we have Jeff teasing Steve and Eddie. Steve decides to spend all his money on movies and popcorn, and at last a wild Birdie appears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

It took a month before Clint Harrington gave up on his crusade to chase his son out of town. That didn’t make Steve safe, per se, just safer. But he took what little comfort in that that he could.

The kids were jealous of the Sunbird, Mike finally admitting that yes, some mysterious benefactor had come in and swept Steve off his feet. He was a kept man.

Steve squirmed at the term. He was going to start looking for work. Just as soon as the dust settled. There was no point in looking when Clint Harrington was just going to come in and throw his weight around get him fired again.

Mike just rolled his eyes when he explained it to the kids, but Max was of the idea to milk for as much as it was worth.

“Seriously, Steve,” Max huffed, “if I could live in a hotel and swim whenever I wanted and order as much food as I wanted, I’d never want to leave.”

He scoffed. “That’s because you’re like ten and actually have friends your age or did you all forget that my dad chased all my friends off?”

“Ooh,” Lucas said clicking his tongue and shaking his head, “yeah, man. That’s rough. And it doesn’t help that this place has one movie theater, an arcade, and a handful of specialty shops none of which scream fun times for teenagers.”

“Yeah,” Will said from the couch, “Jonathan has been complaining about it all summer. There’s Bloomington or Indy, but considering you don’t know which direction your parents went, you’re pretty much stuck in Hell.”

Steve waved his hand at Will. “See? Will gets it.”

So all the kids got their heads together will Claudia and Joyce and tried to plot out something for Steve to do so that he wouldn’t have be staring at the same set of walls every day, no matter how gorgeous those walls happened to be.

Which is how Steve became cinaphile. He started just picking random movies to see at random times of the day during the week. His favorite time to go was Tuesday afternoons before the middle school got out. Not enough time for high school students to evade the place, but later than the moms taking their small children as a way to beat the summer heat.

It also allowed him to find new genres he liked and through all this Eddie stayed his constant phone companion. He loved listening to Steve talk about the plot and how hot the actors were. It was fun.

Steve was also starting to make friends with the rest of the band. He found out who the other person that picked up before thinking it was his phone that was ringing.

“Hey, is Eddie around?” Steve had asked, calling the mobile phone.

“He just stepped out for a minute but he’ll be right back,” the person said. “I’m Jeff by the way, I’m the one that picked up before.”

“Oh hello!” Steve said in surprise. “You’re the other guitarist, right?”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah that’s me. Thanks for not saying ‘the black one’ by the way.”

“Happens a lot?” he asked with a grimace.

“All the time,” Jeff deadpanned. “All the god damned time.”

“That must be shitty,” Steve commiserated. “I guess it’s not quite the same as saying the blond one or the tall one.”

“Yeaaaahhh, no,” Jeff said. “The other two are neutral attributes while being black carries a certain disdain to it.”

“One of the families I used to babysit before this all went to hell,” Steve said, “was a black family and I didn’t realize all the little shit they go through each day. All the snide remarks and sneering glances all the for the crime of existing in the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “Oh wait, your lover boy is back. Hey Ed, it’s Steve.”

“Little Canary!” Eddie said excitedly upon being given the phone. “Jeff didn’t spill any of my secrets did he?”

Steve heard Jeff laugh in the background. “I didn’t know there were secrets he kept... I’m going to have to pump him for information next time.”

‘No, no, no,” Eddie whined. “Not allowed! Shoo Jeffy. Mine! Shoo!”

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve giggled. “You can tell all your secrets yourself the next time you’re in Hawkins.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“You’re just a gooey marshmallow, aren’t you?” Steve said with a giggle. “A perfectly roasted marshmallow. Hard on the outside, but all melty and gooey on the inside. Sweet and sticky.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You really had me going there until the sticky part. Yeah, baby. I’ll be your marshmallow and you’ll be my little Canary.”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve said, “I’d really like that.”

They talked for a little bit longer before Eddie hummed.

“Steve we have to talk about the last month of the tour,” he said seriously.

Steve’s blood froze in his veins. Eddie rarely called him ‘Steve’. It was a petname like baby, sweetheart, or honey, or little Canary, or maybe even Stevie. But never Steve. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“We’re going to be in Canada,” Eddie continued. “I’ll still be able to call, but only from hotel rooms. I don’t get good service there.”

The ice in his veins turned to lead in his stomach. “So while you’re on the road, you won’t be able to call me?” he asked, his voice small.

“Oh, little Canary,” Eddie said sympathetically. “I’ll try to call from payphones when we stop for gas, but yeah. It’ll be pretty sporadic. But I’ve gotten Chrissy to promise that she’ll take good care you.”

“She still doesn’t like, you know,” Steve said, “she thinks I’m distracting you from doing your job.”

“Which is fucking ridiculous,” Eddie assured him. “I shake my ass on stage and sing and play my heart out. I never skimp on that, and never walk out one meet and greets with the fans. It’s her job to worry, but it’s not your problem. It’s mine. Plus I have my little elf in play who will be plying you with as many little bird gifts I can find.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at that. He had gotten in addition to the necklace that he only took off to shower, a couple of graphic t-shirts with canaries on them. A keychain as well as one with his name on it. Three little ceramic canaries and a glass one. All brought in by Eddie’s little elf.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

“Well, I’ve got to go, babe,” Eddie murmured, “I’ll talk to later. The change won’t happen right away, but I’ll tell you when the date gets closer, okay?”

“Roger that,” Steve said with a sigh of relief. Then they hung up and he flopped on the sofa like a fainting Victorian maiden. In a couple of weeks, he would go back to being as lonely as fuck.

He didn’t even know who the little elf was or why they never showed themselves. All though, knowing Eddie, it was probably just because he thought it was cute. Which it was. It was also a little on the creepy side. He had gotten to know the porters, bellboys, and cleaning staff very well, so he didn’t mind them coming in while he was out or even in the shower.

But a mysterious person whom he knew nothing about? Yeah that was a problem. He didn’t know if they were male or female, how old they were, were they friendly or just doing their job.

To say it drove Steve nuts would be an understatement.

It had been six weeks since his dad chucked him out for making out with Tommy on the sofa and all that time he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard or any of their friends. It was just then his luck ran out.

He had accidentally spilled almost his whole bottle of shampoo and had to go and get more. He spoke briefly to Joyce and chatted with her about Will and how Jonathan was adjusting to being newly graduated and turned around to run directly into someone.

“Shit!” Steve hissed as the basket he was carrying slammed into his stomach. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He looked up, right into the green eyes and freckled face of Tommy Hagan.

“Steve!”

“Hey, Tommy,” Steve said with a fake smile. “How have you been?” The unasked question of ‘why did you leave me?’ hung in the air between them.

Tommy reached up and rubbed the material of Steve’s shirt between his finger and thumb. “That’s some pretty fancy new getup you’ve got there. Where you get the money for such nice things?”

Steve took a step back and crossed his arms. “I’m surviving. Like I always do.” He hated how he was already put on the defensive.

“Mhmm...” Tommy purred. “Pretty little slut like you, I bet you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy you’ve spread your legs for.”

Dread immediately pooled in Steve’s stomach. That wasn’t what Eddie was? Was he?

He smacked Tommy’s hand away. “Jealous that someone is fucking me better than you ever could? Maybe I have someone paying my bills or maybe I just have a trust fund. I’ll never tell you jack shit.”

The thing was is that he probably did have a trust fund. He just wouldn’t get it until he turned twenty-one. He had two years of running on empty he would have to do first. At least he had until Eddie came home anyway.

“No,” Tommy agreed, “you were always more of a screamer than a talker.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “At least I didn’t run like a bitch when my parents walked in on us fucking. You find another dick to ride or did you go back to Carol like the coward you are?”

Tommy scowled. “You keep her name out your dirty mouth, Stevie boy. You don’t want to see what will happen if you don’t.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a snort, “you’ll go running back to Daddy to protect you, like always do. Now pardon me, I have better things to do.” His eyes flicked over Tommy’s body. “If you hadn’t been the only option, I wouldn’t have picked you.”

He pushed passed him, bumping their shoulders together as he did.

He quickly bought what he needed and about as much junk food as he could get hands on. Joyce looked as though she wanted to ask if he was okay, so picked a different line to go though, hurrying out to his car. He looked around to make sure Tommy wasn’t waiting for him, but he didn’t see his car.

He drove back to the hotel, ready for a junk food night in front of the TV. He ordered room service and turned on the shower to wash off the slimy feeling of the interaction with Tommy. He had removed his shirt when he realized he had left the shampoo out there.

He opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Because there putting a couple of boxes on the end table was a girl with choppy blonde hair and boxy clothes. She was definitely not staff.

“So you’re my elf.”

~

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[sh4wty18]

sextape.

pairing: pornstar!jake x bsf!reader

summary: jake always sends you his OF content before he posts it. but one day after he sends you a solo video with an unexpected ending, you decide maybe it’s time you two film together.

cw: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, pornstar!au, sex, masturbation, online sex work, language, best friends with benefits to lovers, use of y/n

word count: 3.9k + proofread

a/n: another fic i’ve had in my notes app for a month lol🤗

TW: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME ONLINE. THIS STORY IS 100% FICTIONAL AND FOR FUN ONLY. NOTHING HERE IS ACCURATE TO REAL LIFE, NOR AM I CLAIMING IT TO BE. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you’re currently working on your grad school work, grading quizzes for the students you TA for at UCLA. getting a phd was a full time job, no one ever warned you. but it would be worth it. as you sit at the desk in your bedroom, contemplating how much partial credit to award a student for a mediocre response to a short answer question, your phone buzzes.

you look down and see jake’s name light up your screen. you lean back in your chair, phone in hand, and read his text.

heyyy you wanna see my vid for tm? tried somethin new i think it’s pretty good

you smile at the screen before quickly typing out a reply and pressing send.

yeah

u don’t know how bored i am rn

you put your phone back down and continue grading. jake was one of your closest friends. you’d been friends for years since undergrad when you both went to ucla together. after graduation you moved onto ucla’s graduate program and he decided he was done with academia. he had always been a very creative person. he was also very sexual. he loved sex. he was good at it. he knew what to do to make people squirm. he was sexy, and he knew it. he decided, why not try to make a career out of it? so a couple years ago, he’d made an onlyfans account. his innovation & entrepreneurship degree came in handy, because he knew exactly how to promote himself online to gain a following quickly. fast forward two years, and now he’s in the top 0.5% of creators on the site, easily making seven figures a year, sometimes even seven figures a month. you were a little jealous sometimes, of how much money he made with seemingly little effort, but then you thought about all the work he’d actually put into his career.

he posted on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays. mondays were photos. he’d often have extremely strenuous and exhausting photoshoots for multiple days in the beginning of the month. they were never the same and they were always creative. he thought of each idea. money went into hiring the photographers, make up artists, catering, rented out space. but he made enough money to pay for it all. money wasn’t the issue, it was time. on wednesdays he uploaded a solo video. on fridays, he uploaded a video filmed with one or two or however many other people. his videos were always to the point. he liked it quick and dirty. no emotions, no strings, and NEVER any kissing. his fans liked it that way. he knew they didn’t care for theatrics. they were there to get off, and so was he…although, he always made sure the people he filmed with came first.

he edited all his own content too. he also had the responsibility of planning collaborations with other artists, for the friday videos. they couldn’t both upload the same content, so that often meant going multiple rounds in a row. plus he might have multiple collabs to film each week, so he could edit the videos and schedule days to post them. point being, jake was a very hard worker. he deserved every ounce of fame he’d gotten.

he would often send his videos to you for your approval. since you’d had a sexual relationship for quite some time, and were super close friends, he trusted you to tell him the truth about whether the videos were good or not. you always did. for around the past year, your relationship had escalated from solely friendship to friends with benefits. he got tested once a week for his work, so you weren’t worried about getting any stds from him or anything. plus he was always super safe. sex with jake was amazing. he was a amazing. having the “benefits” label attached to your title… it was fun. it was sweet. it wasn’t serious. at least that was what you thought he wanted, and you were too afraid to ever bring it up. you were happy to be his friend. you loved being his friend. you also loved having sex with him. you didn’t want to ruin that.

it was tuesday night, he’d probably just finished editing his wednesday video. you couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement. watching him fuck himself was always fun for you.

you heard your phone buzz again and picked it up.

well hopefully this doesn’t bore you more lol :)

*FILE ATTACHMENT 3.5MB*

you click on the attachment and see that the video was eight minutes long. normally his wednesday videos averaged around three minutes. quick and dirty, remember? when you press play, you are immediately met with the image of a nearly naked jake waving to the camera and blowing a kiss (his signature salutation). you look down and can see where his boxers obviously tent, and when he plops himself down into the swiveling office chair with a smile, his erection is even more glaringly obvious.

one time, after one of your late night escapades, while you were cuddling in your bed in the early hours of the morning, you’d asked him how he was always hard before his solo videos even started. he had giggled and kissed your temple softly, before mumbling “a magician never tells his secrets.”

“oh come on,” you begged. “pleeease. i’m your best friend. and we are having sex so you kind of owe it to me if i’m going to find out you have some type of magical penis.”

he laughed again, “i just think about you.”

he kissed you on the cheek. “jaaake… be serious,” you say with faux annoyance.

“what makes you think i’m not being serious?” he asked before pulling your naked body ever closer to his. you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, but before you could push him any further, he’d fallen asleep.

you returned your attention back to the video, where the tiny jake in your screen was peeling his boxers off and tossing them to the side of the room. you watch as his dick sprang free. he tore his gaze away from his cock and glanced up to smile at the camera again. he had such a way with the camera. his eye contact made the viewer feel involved somehow. it was almost intimate. maybe that was why he was so popular. people felt seen by him. he squeezed a bit of unscented lotion on his hand and lazily grasped the shaft of his cock, drawing slow strokes back and forth, never breaking eye contact with the camera. yeah, this was definitely intimate. his breath caught every once in a while and he’d whisper “fuck” or “shit”, almost quiet enough that you couldn’t hear him.

after a couple minutes, you could tell he was about to come. well you could tell. you specifically. it was a face you’d grown so accustomed to seeing from him. his eyebrows furrowed a bit and his top lip curled up and to the right. sometimes he squeezed his eyes shut in his videos, but never with you. when you two fucked, he was always present. he wanted to savor every second. he wanted to see your eyes roll back as he made you finish for the second or third time in the night.

he squirmed in the chair and it rotated a little as his strokes got more aggressive. but right before he came he let go. he caught his breath. he laughed. he looked at the camera with a stare that could only be described as him saying “gotcha”. he repeated this process a few more times. working himself up. fucking himself to the brink of collapse but letting go just before he could teeter over the edge. you kept note of how his eyes hadn’t scrunched up once yet this video. as if he was trying as hard as possible to remain present with his audience.

around the seven minute mark, you knew he was finally going to allow himself to come. he was squirming, his leg was shaking, you could see the muscles in his abs contracting with every shallow breath he took. he whimpered softly, mumbling incoherently under his breath. but then he did something truly unexpected.

“fuck, y/n,” he let out with a moan. his own eyes widened at his words but at that point it was too late. the damage was already done. he felt so good and he was so close to coming that he couldn’t help but continue saying your name. he continued mumbling your name between soft sighs and moans until he finally pushed himself over the edge and come shot out of his dick and into his hand. he let go of his now flaccid but sensitive penis, and sat back in his chair with a breathless laugh.

“fuck,” he said. he stood up and walked closer to the camera, allowing the audience to get an up close look at the mess he’d made of himself. he smiled brightly one last time, blowing another kiss before the video cut out.

you sat in silence and disbelief at what you’d just seen. he was literally moaning your name while he jerked off, and was about to post it for a million subscribers to see. you couldn’t tell if you thought it was hot or if it made you nervous. you looked down at your texts and saw that he’d sent another message.

well?

it didn’t take long for you to think of your reply.

come over

he answered almost as soon as your text was delivered.

already on my way baby

-

you knew he arrived at your place when you heard three quick knocks at your front door, the same knock he did every time he came over.

“hey,” you greet him with a shy smile as you open the door. suddenly, seeing him in person after watching his video had made you feel less confident, and more embarrassed.

“hi,” he said, looking down at his feet. clearly his drive over had given him time to contemplate his actions and maybe garner a bit of embarrassment himself. he stepped over the threshold without asking. not that you wanted him to. you closed the door behind him and stood with your hand pressed against it for a second, facing away from him.

“look,” he started. “i don’t know why i did it. i know it’s… different… than my other stuff, and if you don’t want me to post it i won’t, but i wanted you to see how you make me feel.” you feel his presence behind you and your suspicion is validated as his fingers glide over your hip until his palm is flat against your skin. “say something, please.”

you turn around and grab his neck with both hands, pulling him down to sloppily kiss him. you thought about his words, how you make me feel, and you thought about him. you pull away for a second and stare into his eyes desperately. he meets your gaze with equal fervor, scanning all across your face for some sort of indication to keep going. and you can tell then. that he wants you just as much as you’d always wanted him. in a way that’s more than just best friends. more than just benefits. “i want to film with you,” you say, all your confidence restored.

his eyes widen, “really?”

“yes.”

you feel his grip tighten on your waist, his other hand snaking up your neck and around the back of your head. “i was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled.

you lead him to your bedroom, hand in hand. it had to be the hundredth time you’d led him there. but it never got old. you could do it forever. you would do it forever, if he’d have you.

“so how does this work?” you ask with giddy excitement upon locking your bedroom door behind you.

“we don’t have any of my film stuff, so we’ll just have to record on my phone. it’ll be fun. it’ll look homemade… amateur. people eat that shit up. plus, i think if you’re in it, people will love it even more. i know they’re gonna love the wednesday video… just hearing your name.”

you smile, taking a step towards him and reaching out to pull him in by his waistband. “so you’ll just… be recording us on your phone the whole time?” you ask.

he gulps, his dick growing harder by the second, just from thinking about having you on camera. he couldn’t stop imagining what the video would look like, and how he could jerk off to it whenever he wanted. he wouldn’t have to imagine you anymore. “yeah, pretty much.” he inches closer to you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in until his lips brush against your mouth. “gonna be so sexy for me, baby.”

“shit,” you whisper, your knees growing weak. “i want you.”

he sets up his phone, leaning it against a jewelry box on your dresser, and you wonder how he could possibly get all of it in frame.

“you good?” he asks as he makes his way back over to you.

“yeah,” you say, eyes still on the camera. “just a little nervous i guess.”

“you’re gonna do so good. just pretend it’s not even there. focus on me.”

“okay,” you smile, and lean in to connect your lips. he drags his hand down your back until he’s pulling on the fabric of your t-shirt, silently begging you to allow him to pull it off. you break away from each other, just for a second, to strip until you’re both naked. why not get down to business, right?

“getting right to it?” he asks with a smirk, before plunging back to your mouth, kissing you hard and fast. one of his hands grips your cheek while the other kneads your ass. your arms wrap around his neck and your bodies are so close together you can feel his cock pressing against your pelvis. you part your lips slightly, allowing is tongue to enter and explore the inside of your mouth. he guides you both over to your bed, never breaking the kiss, until he finally picks you up completely. you wrap your legs around his torso and he holds you close, flopping down on the bed with you mounting his lap. “turn around so they can see you, baby,” he breaks away and whispers in your ear. you do as you’re told, he spreads his legs so you can sit between them, facing the camera now.

“spread your legs for me, princess.” you rest one leg on both of his thighs, so you’re completely revealed. you can see yourself in his little phone screen on your vanity, and even bigger in the mirror behind it. he wraps one arm around your stomach, holding you in place, and rests his head on your shoulder, kissing you as he does. his free hand creeps around your waist and lands between your legs. “so wet for me.” he whispers as his fingers mindlessly brush over you. he finds your clit, as he’s done countless times before, and rubs gentle circles into it with his index and middle fingers.

he loved to start slow with you. building you up for so long just so he could eventually ruin you. you lean your head back into the crook of his neck and turn to meet his gaze, “please don’t tease, jake.”

he kisses your lips again, so softly, you almost think he’s going to go easy on you. “i’m not teasin’, promise,” he replies. “just gotta show them how pretty you are while you’re like this.”

he gets rougher then, his fingers moving quicker and harder, and you let out a moan. “louder, baby.” he says as he delivers a brisk slap to your inner thigh, pulling another moan from you, before he eventually shoves two fingers deep inside you. he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, finding your g-spot over and over again.

you’re practically a breathless, shaking mess in his arms, but he just keeps alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit. he brings you to the edge more times than you can count, alternating methods just before you can reach your peak. he almost knows your body better than you at this point. knows exactly when to stop before you can come, knows exactly what makes you feel the best. “you’re doing so good for me, princess.” he praises as you continue to play his game. allowing him to make a mess of you in his arms, he’s the only one you’d ever want to be this vulnerable with. you absolutely love when he ruins you. you love how it feels during the moment, and you love how it feels after, with him cradling you in his arms until you fall asleep. kissing your forehead and cheeks relentlessly while he tells you how amazing you are. how you’re the only person he genuinely enjoys fucking. how he could do it all the time and never get bored.

he kisses your temple as he finally allows you to come undone in his arms. you grip his arm that’s wrapped around your stomach, and your other hand reaches behind you to grab the back of his head and pull him in. your lips latch onto his, even though you’re barely capable of kissing him as he works you through your orgasm. you gaze up to make eye contact with him, and he smiles down at you while your body finally stops convulsing and your loud moans dwindle into soft, breathless pants. you manage to return his smile then, and he leans down to press an ever so gentle kiss to your lips. “you think you can take more?” he asks softly.

“with you? always,” you reply.

“that’s my girl,” he grins. “move to the edge of the bed, baby.”

he stands up and grabs a tissue from your vanity to wipe off his fingers before grabbing his phone from the dresser. he flips the camera view so it’s on you, and he turns the flash on.

he walks up to you, camera in hand, and you can’t help but giggle as he does. you’ve never seen him in action before. well, not live. you wonder if this is how filming usually goes for him. you imagine not. since he has more professional recording equipment at home, and he’s with strangers. you have to admit, no matter how good his content is, he never has any type of chemistry with the people he fucks beyond sexually. it was different with you, it was bound to be. your relationship is bigger than just sex. it was more… for both of you.

“you laughin’ at me?” jake asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you.

you bat your eyelashes at him innocently, “never!”

he lets out a chuckle before finally reaching you on the bed. he stands at the edge where you sit up on your elbows to look at him. the flash in your face makes it hard to even see jake. you look past the light up at him, he’s all you care about. you know you must be giving him the biggest doe eyes ever, but you don’t care how you look. you want him bad.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, reaching down to jerk himself off with his free hand. “could come just by lookin’ at you.”

he continues stroking himself, whining a little as he does. “see what she does to me?” he asks his hypothetical audience. “lean back, mama. hold your thighs back for me.” again, you do as you’re told. being with him was the only time you were okay with a man telling you what to do. you grab one thigh in each hand and pull your legs back until they’re pressed against your torso.

he guides his cock between your legs, slowly pushing it inside of you inch by inch. you were always taken aback by his size. as if your body forgets how big he is between your hookups, you always needed a minute to adjust. “takin’ me so well, princess.” you knew the camera was capturing the entire scene. and for some reason, that was turning you on even more.

once he was finally in deep enough, he let go of his dick and used his now free hand to grab onto your thigh, pushing it down even further. you felt him bottom out, his pelvis pressing against your skin, and he groaned in delight at the feeling. “missed you so much, baby. missed this perfect body, and your pretty moans,” he says.

“you came over three nights ago,” you muster between moans as he begins thrusting into you.

“yeah, but i always miss you when you’re not with me. miss all of you. not just fucking you.” he couldn’t say much else, as he was now groaning himself, but you understood well enough what he meant. he missed you. everything about you.

his thrusts grew faster and harder with each passing second, and you reached out to grab his arm that was still pushing your thigh back. you gripped his wrist, your nails digging into him as your moans got louder. “fuck! jake… fuck, fuck.”

“what is it, baby? use your words,” jake said through his grunts.

“‘m…so close,” you reply, and another moan rips through you.

“me too,” he says. “come with me.”

your back arches off the bed and you can almost see stars as he slams into you, but you let go at precisely the same time. his thrusts grow sloppier, and he can barely hold his grip on the phone as his body begins to shake. yours does too, and you grip the sheets with the hand that isn’t actively holding onto jake’s wrist for dear life. you’re both in a state of pure ecstasy as you feel his dick finally twitch inside you.

he stops the video and throws his phone on the bed, hunching over on top of you to catch his breath. he slowly pulls out and collapses onto the bed, pulling your body onto his and kissing your face gently. he fixes your sweaty hair as best as he can, smiling as he does. “you’re so pretty.”

“so are you,” you whisper, your fingers softly tracing his face. “so are you gonna post the video this week? i think it was good, hopefully it’ll do well.”

“oh, i don’t think i’m going to post it.” jake says.

“what? why not? do you think it’s bad?” you ask, and genuine concern lines your voice.

“no. that’s the problem. it’s so good. i don’t wanna share it. don’t wanna share you. only i want to be able to see you like that.” he kisses you roughly and nuzzles his head into your chest.

you smile at his words. don’t wanna share you, and suddenly, you’re saying the one thing you never thought you’d be able to say to him. “jake, i think i’m in love with you.”

he seems caught off guard at first. but then he looks at you with eyes full of only love and passion, and the most earnest smile you’d ever seen adorns his face. “thank god.”

he kisses you, only this time it feels different. it’s as if a taut rope that had held you two a foot away from each other had finally snapped. or been cut. he holds your face in his hands like you’re a precious porcelain doll he wouldn’t dare risk breaking, and when he pulls away from the kiss, it’s only to say “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that.”

pics from pinterest, divider from @/saradika-graphics

tags for @liseytopia & @audr3yyyyy again <33 ily guys

[stargazedwinchester]

Begin Again | Sam

This one is part of my Taylor’s Version series! View the masterlist here <3

Summary: After leaving a toxic relationship, your facade of a white picket fence life can’t fool the eyes of your friendly neighbor Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Small flashback regarding toxic relationship

This one is a little different from the original Supernatural storyline at the start, Sam does have a white picket fence life and is still a hunter, just in case it's not clear enough in the story :) also part 2 maybe?? let me know!!

"I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn, and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again"

Word count: 1,082

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

“Fuck!” You shout, only just dodging his hit. You see the rage glow in his eyes, your cheeks are flushed maroon and your forehead sweating. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he states, his eyes fixated on you. He lunges forward with his fist clenched so hard his knuckles are white.

“No!” you shriek, taking the blow. You try your best to defend yourself but end up staggering into the china cabinet. You cower toward the floor, tensing your arms and legs hoping to be able to cover yourself from any more hurt.

It doesn’t help.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

A few days had gone by at this point and you’re finally allowed outside to go grocery shopping. Carrying the bags from your car, the sun shines lovingly on your face. Birds are chirping. There’s a couple of kids out playing fetch with their dog on the street. Sometimes days like this don’t make you feel any better than the Hell you’re living in. If anything, they help emphasise your insecurities that are made a hell of a lot worse because of that dipshit back home.

You don’t want to go home.

“Hey,” a voice startles you from behind. You turn to the left and see your new neighbour walk down the porch stairs. “Oh, hey Sam.” You greet him, a half-forced smile planted on your face as you squint from the sun.

“How you doing?” He asks, placing his hands on his hips, acting completely naturally. You nod hesitantly. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” Conversations with him are a little awkward for many reasons. He had just moved in last week. He had probably heard what happened the night before and he’s also extremely good-looking. You can’t look him in the eye. It’s too daunting.

“Yeah, uh, I’m sorry to bring it up—“He gets cut off and your boyfriend slams the front door and shouts something over at you. His face reveals that he’s mad and this time you have no idea why. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, “I need to go.” You finish, rushing off and leaving him standing there. His eyes never left you. Sam sighs and turns around to go back inside, keeping his gaze fixed on you to ensure that you make it inside without your boyfriend making a scene.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

It had been a couple of weeks and Sam had tried to talk to you about what he heard that night, but you never brought it up again. Maybe he had a change of heart and thought that if he brought it up, it could cause an issue, or even have upset you. Sometimes bringing things back up isn’t worth the hassle.

You haven’t seen him much, except for this 1967 Chevy Impala that parks outside every other day in the early hours of the morning where you can have a tiny bit of freedom from your everyday life. Window-watching and reading books in the moonlight has been your escape for as long as you can remember. But this time, instead of Sam, and you assume his brother, leaving toward the car, he makes his way over and attempts to peer through your window. Although he can’t see anything, he turns to his brother and says something, pointing back at your window.

Out of pure curiosity and some courage, you attempt to open the window without your boyfriend noticing. You slide it up, turning around to check on him each time. You’re damn lucky he’s a heavy sleeper.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-shout, confused as to what they’re talking about.

“What do you mean? Why are you awake?” He shouts back.

“You’re at my window, pointing at me with this strange man. So tell me, what the hell are you doing?”

The guy who’s with him huffs, shrugging his shoulders. He mutters something to himself and looks offended. “What’s his problem?” you reply, and Sam smirks.

“Strange guy?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I look like, a kidnapper?” He mentions, and it makes you chuckle quietly. “Listen, lady, are you coming down or what? Prince Charming here wants to rescue you from your... palace.” Sam looks at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” He questions, his mouth slightly agape, as he just cannot believe his brother outed him like that.

“Just come down, will you? Pack some things.”

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

You had practically moved across the country to live with Sam and his brother, Dean. Sam knew exactly what was happening back home and had made a deal with himself to get you out, even if it killed him.

This morning, the pair of you walk down to a cafe near a motel you’re currently residing in. Whilst ordering, Sam tells you to go find a seat and he’ll bring your drink over. You agree and find a booth in the corner. He brings your drink over and sits opposite you.

His demeanour is calm, yet like he needs to ask you something. You dismiss it though and assume it’s because he’s dealt with a lot within the past few weeks. And so have you.

“Y/N,” he starts, taking a sip of his black coffee. “Can I ask you something?”

“I feel like it’s gonna be a tough question.” You laugh, and Sam smirks. His dimple deepened into his cheek. “What made you want to leave your old life behind? And to just trust me after only knowing me for a month?” He asks, a genuine question you haven’t even thought of answering. You struggle to find an answer, because truly, there’s nothing that comes to mind.

“I mean... you want the truth?” You ask, and he nods. You update him what exactly what happened, who did it and why you thought to just say ‘fuck it’ and have the balls to finally have a chance to escape whether that meant losing your life for it. Sam has been concentrating on you telling your part so much that he looks emotional himself. His eyes are soft and understanding. They’re glossed over as if glazed with icing sugar. You can tell just from his aura he’s a sweet guy. Putting your trust in him seems like the right thing to do.

You both share your childhood trauma and as much as it hurts to bring it back up, you both poke jokes and find a little humour in all of it.

But at least in this little cafe on a random Wednesday morning, this place, this atmosphere, and Sam allows you to begin again.

[teddiee]

Into Each Life: Chapter 10

Summary:

Arnie’s expression clears, briefly, and he blinks up at Tony like he suddenly remembers the other Omega is sharing the cramped stall with him. “Y’told me it wouldn’t hurt, once. Before… before I left. You said—you said it’s what we’re s’posed to do.”

“Arnie,” Tony warns.

“Yeah, you did. You said that t’me. You smelled scared, though. Knew you didn’t believe it. What you were sayin’. But I trusted you anyway. And then… and then…” Arnie swallows, and rubs at his eyes, and Tony’s heart plummets into his stomach.

Perpendicular to him, Bucky shifts. Tony can’t bring himself to look at him. He wants to disappear.

“Roth,” Tony bites out sharply. “Shut the fuck up.”

Words: 9,952

Steve Rogers’ birthday, Tony learns, is Independence Day.

“You’re joking,” Tony sputters, unwittingly, when Steve drops the news in casual conversation. He bites his cheek and swats at Bucky’s hand as it reaches from behind to pinch at his hip bone when Steve turns around to face him, his brow furrowed.

“What? No, I’m not joking. Why would I be joking?”

It’s late on Wednesday evening. The Brooklyn boys, ultimately deciding it was too warm to heat anything on the stove for supper, had pooled together their pocket change and set off for the nearest Horn & Hardart Automat.

“Horn and Who?” Tony had asked warily, albeit delighted, when a soot-smudged and bright-eyed Alpha appeared outside his window to whisk him away from his ivory Omega tower.

He had only dropped him off there earlier that week, two days prior. And he had seen him every night since.

“You’re sweet, you know that?” Bucky had replied, shifting his weight onto his forearms and leaning over Tony’s window to grin at him. “The automat, princess. Where us workin’ class-type go to pay ten cents for a sandwich when our butlers can’t be bothered to make one for us.”

Tony nodded sagely. “Sounds humbling.”

“Y’gonna come out here? Or am I gonna have to carry you down?”

“I’m all booked up tonight, sorry,” Tony sighed. He shoved his socked feet into his shoes and reached for his suspenders, dangling loosely at his waist, to pull each strap over his shoulders.  “I’ve got a swell date with my footman. He’s bringing hot pastrami on rye.”

Bucky laughed, loud and beautiful, and Tony’s stomach swooped. Somewhere down on the street below, a blonde Alpha groaned.

“For cryin’ out loud, can’t you two make moon eyes at each other later? I’m starvin’.”

“Aw, jeez. Shut your pie hole, Rogers. We’re comin’.”

Twenty minutes later, the young Alphas, hungry and irritable, bicker and grumble incessantly at each other as the trio slowly inch up a line stretched halfway down the block for their ten-cent suppers.

“We still haven’t even made it to one game this season, Rogers.”

“Last time I checked, Buck, I wasn’t the one pulling weekend shifts.”

“Don’t be a punk. I pick up Sunday doubles to help Nan and Pop with Becca’s tuition.”

“Not worth it,” Tony mumbles under his breath.

“Please. You were picking up Sundays so Hendricks would let you skip out early on Thursdays to chase skirts at Ruby’s.”

“Nice,” Tony says.

Bucky flicks Steve in the ear. “Quit bein’ a wiseass.” His tone is casual, but the scowl he delivers to his best friend over Tony’s head is dirty enough to send the angriest Nazi retreating with his tail between his legs.

He hooks his arm around Tony’s waist and rests his chin on the Omega’s head. Tony accepts his wordless apology easily and sags into the embrace, hoping his scent doesn’t show how secretly pleased he is to be touched like this in public. Bucky’s dating history is none of his business—besides, with how tactile Bucky’s been in the few short days since they started their…courtship? Entanglement?—anyone in a twenty-mile radius can smell Bucky’s unofficial claim on Tony like a forest signal fire.

Either way, he’s a silent sucker for the Alpha’s groveling.

Steve, to his credit, manages to look properly contrite as he casts an apologetic wince in Tony’s direction.

“I mean, not anymore, of course. Chasing skirts, and whatnot. Or, um—”

Tony snorts.

“The point is,” Steve continues haughtily. He begins waving his hands in the air for emphasis. “I’d be happy to go watch the Dodgers. I love the Dodgers. ‘The Pride of Brooklyn’, y’know? Let’s go Dodgers.”

Tony squints. “I don’t think anyone calls them that.”

Bucky yanks at Tony’s earlobe.

“I just don’t know if I want to spend my birthday at a baseball game.”

“But it’s a holiday,” Bucky points out, and the three boys shuffle up the sidewalk as the line slowly dwindles. Behind them, a surly Beta man in coveralls with grease stains on his fingertips occasionally leers in Tony’s direction. He smells like rotten seaweed and moldy plywood. Steve doesn’t seem to notice, too busy drowning under the plight of his current misfortunes, but Bucky shields Tony’s body with his own and keeps the Omega close. He keeps an arm slung around Tony’s chest, or a hand on his waist, or fingers curled around his hip. The primal, possessive creature inside of Tony thrums happily. “I don’t have work. You don’t have work. Tony doesn’t have work.”

“Hilarious,” says Tony.

“C’mon, Steve. Think about it. What’s more patriotic than baseball? America’s favorite pastime. Drinking shit beer and heckling the Phillies with my best pal—” he squeezes Tony’s waist “—and my best boy.”

My best boy.

Steve frowns again, and this time a crease forms between his eyebrows. “It just doesn’t seem right, I guess. Celebrating the country. While everyone else is off fighting for the country.”

“No need to be so contrite, Steve-o,” Tony says, reaching out and squeezing Steve’s bicep in sympathy. He hates it when Steve frowns, but more importantly, he hates that Steve continues to carry the incomprehensible weight of war-riddled guilt on his slight shoulders. “It’s just a birthday. Everyone has one; if I remember correctly, you even got me drunk and clobbered all of my shoes on the dance floor for mine.”

“You looked great.”

“Shaddup, Buck, I know I looked ridiculous,” Steve scoffs, face flaming.

“Wasn’t talking about you.”

Fifteen squabbling minutes later, they reach the front of the line. Steve admits that his birthday is the fourth of July—Tony guffaws, because of course Steve Rogers shares a birthday with Uncle Sam, the Star Spangled sap that he is —and Bucky orders Tony a hot pastrami on rye. When Tony tries pulling out his wallet, Bucky snatches it from his hands and tucks it into his own back pocket before Tony can even blink.

Eventually, once sandwiches find their way into the hands of cranky Alphas and appetites are satiated, the best friends manage to reach a compromise: they’ll attend the Dodgers game—it’s an afternoon game, anyway, and the Dodgers are having a stellar season, says Bucky, who apparently despises the Phillies with a vitriol Toby usually reserves for things like poetry class, and his mother’s homemade meatloaf—and then stick around Flatbush to watch the fireworks that night. Steve mentions something about a picnic blanket, and Bucky asks him if he’s going to weave his own wicker basket, too, and then Steve Rogers is wrangling Bucky Barnes into a headlock as Tony Stark happily munches on the worst sandwich he’s ever tasted.

Tony doesn’t mention that he has never watched the fireworks with anyone before or seen a baseball game; he's only listened to games on the radio with Ana (a devoted Yankees fan).

“Promised to buy me dinner, my ass,” Steve grumbles, wiping the crumbs of Bucky’s Reuben out of his hair. “I offered to cook tonight. That potato soup ma used t’make, with the onions. You liked ma’s soup.”

“Didn’t want no soup, Steve. S’too hot.”

“Dragged me out here… made me pay for my own damn sandwich…”

“—I told you I’d take you to dinner. Last time I checked, you made your own money, y’damsel.”

“Semantics. You bought Tony’s.”

“S’different. Gotta woo my fella.” To prove a point, Bucky hooks a finger into Tony’s belt loop and pulls him close until their chests are touching. He presses a light kiss to his nose. Tony blushes. “How’s the grub, doll?”

Tony feigns a sigh. “Passable. Don’t know what I’m going to tell Gaspard, he’ll be crushed.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “The footman?”

“Maybe. I’m still workshopping pretentious, self-absorbed French names. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Raoul,” Steve pipes in.

“Bertrand,” offers Bucky, voicd muffled around a stolen mouthful of Tony’s sandwich.

“Bertrand’s not French,” says Steve. “Is it?”

“You’re a real wisecrack today, you know that?”

“Bertrand’s French,” says Tony. “A snooty, French variation of ‘Bertram’. German.” He pauses, contemplative. “There’s a mathematician named Bertrand. I read his dissertation on non-Euclidean geometry back in grammar school. Not bad, if you don’t mind analyzing core mathematic principles served up with a heaping side of philosophical-yuppie-bullshit.”

“German?” Cries Steve, aghast.

“Love it when you start talkin’ etymology to me, honey,” Bucky husks into Tony’s ear, not bothering to drop his voice low enough to spare his best friend, who sputters indignantly in the background. Tony scoffs, amused, but Bucky smells like he means it: rich and tangy. Heady.

The warmth of it curls into his nostrils and settles pleasantly at the base of his spine. Tony tips his head back and grins at Bucky, eyelashes fluttering.

“‘Bertram’. Comes from the Old German words ‘beraht’ and ‘hram’. Means ‘bright raven’.” Tony’s taking the piss, honestly, but to his delight, he watches Bucky’s pupils dilate. “It’s very Shakespearean,” he finishes, a little out of breath.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters. “Get a room.”

“Don’t mind if we do,” Bucky snarks back, slipping his hand into Tony’s and tossing their trash into the nearest bin. “What time’s curfew, darlin’?” Like he doesn’t know.

“Uh. seven? Room checks are tonight.” Tony’s tongue feels dry in his mouth. Bucky’s looking at him the way he does when he—

“Great. Wanna go fool around?”

“I hate you guys,” says Steve, dropping his head into his hands. “I need new friends. Single friends. Beta friends…”

Tony’s lips twitch. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Spend the night.”

Tony pokes his tongue into his cheek to suppress his smile. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. We’ll sneak out after curfew. I can have you back before the sun’s even up. No one would ever know.”

“I’m on thin ice. My room smells like you. Every week at room check, Tompkins sniffs around like a Basset Hound, hoping to find my secret rotating horde of Alpha lovers hiding in the closet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky grins. “Who else do you keep on deck?”

Tony crumples his ethics homework into a ball and playfully lobs it at Bucky’s head. It bounces off the Alpha’s forehead and he catches it in his hands, cackling. He’s sprawled out on Tony’s bed, looking devilishly handsome and entirely too irresistible in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the Omega’s small dormitory.

“Humphrey Bogart. Lou Costello. That guy at the bodega in Gowanus who calls me ‘angel face’.”

“Knew I outta be worried about that guy. Looked far too pleased with himself to just be sellin’ you some canned vegetables.”

“Have to keep my roster fresh. In case my current rotation gets bored of me.”

Tony’s joking, mostly—mostly?—and he’s still smiling because Bucky does that to him. Makes him grin until his cheeks hurt, these past few days. He’s scribbling some nonsense onto a piece of paper so that he has something to turn in for class tomorrow—it’s not like he’s done an Ethics reading since he was sixteen, anyway, and he’s fully prepared to fail his final exam next week because who cares, honestly—but Bucky’s behind him, suddenly. He stands at Tony’s desk chair, wrapping his arms around Tony’s chest and pulling the Omega back against him. He leans down a bit, resting his chin on Tony’s head.

“Hi,” Tony says quietly. He feels Bucky’s heartbeat against his shoulder blades.

“Hi,” Bucky says back. He presses his lips to the crown of Tony’s head.

Despite Bucky’s jab at Steve earlier, the two of them haven’t done much fooling around since that fateful, heated morning in Bucky’s bed. True to his word, Bucky accepted Tony’s tentative approval of their courtship like a gentleman. He kept him close all weekend and doted on him—tending to his bruises and staying a noble three steps ahead of his seemingly predictable, blubbering outbursts.

Tony wept incessantly for two straight days, leaving him both outraged and deeply mortified. Regardless of his most valiant efforts, even the tiniest action seemed to trigger waterworks.

He cried on the telephone when he called Jarvis. He cried when Steve cooked him breakfast in the morning, and when Bucky pulled him into the shower and washed his hair—both boys in their underclothes—intimate and gentle and nonsexual. He even shed tears when Steve returned from the dry cleaners Sunday evening, carrying Tony’s godawful suit.

“Aw, Christ,” Tony gritted out, pressing his palms into his eyes to stave off the familiar burning pressure. He didn’t know how he had any tears left to spare, good God. “Thanks, Steve. Just—you could’ve tossed it in the trash. Or—I don’t know, burned it. Fed it to the pigeons, or something.”

“It’s a nice suit,” Steve protested, a little stunned and a lot wary. He cast a panicked look at Bucky, who was observing the unfolding situation with amusement from the kitchen table, casually biting into an apple. “It doesn’t… it’s as good as new. It doesn’t even smell like that Alpha, anymore. Honest.”

“Swell,” Tony said, voice wavering dangerously.

And then he started weeping.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky crooned. He pulled Tony into his lap and wrapped his arms around his midsection. “Of course we’ll get rid of it. Maybe we’ll spare the pigeons, though. I bet there are plenty of hungry termites in Brooklyn.”

“Buck,” said Steve, appalled.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Tony wailed. “M’so embarrassed. I’m not usually like this, I swear it. I just—I feel insane.”

“You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect,” Bucky said consolingly, hugging him tighter. “You’re letting go of eighteen years of shitty, repressed emotions. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to sock one of us in the face yet.” Bucky gestured to his roommate, who was stealthily hanging the suit on the far-facing side of the coat rack. “When Steve’s ma died, he got so drunk on Jim Beam; I found him passed out on the side of the road outside the cemetery. Had to throw him over my shoulder and carry him three miles home. Halfway there, he threw up down my back.”

“It’s true,” Steve said sagely. “And Bucky bawled like a baby the night we moved Becca into The Institute.”

“She was cryin’ all over me, begging me to take her home. She’s my baby sister, it was brutal.”

On Sunday night, he and Bucky finally went out. Bucky took him to a cozy mom-and-pop diner—somewhere he used to frequent with his parents after church on weekends. He held Tony’s hand, and paid for his food (much to Tony’s protest), and when they got back to the apartment, James Barnes pushed Tony up against the threshold of the doorway and kissed him like it was the one thing he was put on this Earth to do.

Bucky gripped his waist with one hand and cradled his cheek with the other and slicked his mouth over Tony’s with a spiritual sort of reverence. Tony, useless as always, sagged, his eyes fluttering shut as he choked out a desperate whimper. Bucky responded with a low chuckle of his own that carried an unmistakable sense of dominance, hauntingly Alpha.

He rewarded the Omega by sinfully curling his tongue around Tony’s own and Tony shuddered and sighed as he was greeted with a familiar roaring in his ears and a soft buzzing under his skin, his submissive instincts kicking into overdrive as he succumbed to Bucky’s unhurried, devout ministrations. His glands throbbed in a way that had him squirming and shuddering, and when Bucky’s thumb trailed delicately against the suck mark on his neck, he almost keened.

Bucky responded by pushing into the bruise harder and growling into Tony’s mouth.

“Good boy.”

Tony moaned lowly.

It was dangerous, the effect that Bucky Barnes had on Tony’s physical being. He found himself unable to do anything but submit as he yielded over control of the kiss, happily allowing Bucky to assert control in a way that felt so simple, so innate, it made his toes curl.

“James? Is that you?”

Bucky ripped his mouth from Tony’s and pushed him behind his body, Tony stumbling with the grace and discretion of a newborn animal. He latched onto the back of Bucky’s shirt for purchase, sucking oxygen into his lungs to put out the fire in his blood.

“Mrs. Lombardi,” Bucky croaked, before clearing his throat. “Hi, yeah, hello. It’s just me.”

Bucky’s elderly neighbor narrowed her eyes as she peered at the two of them from her doorway down the dimly lit hallway, three rooms away. “Is that Steven with you?”

Tony pressed his forehead into Bucky’s back and bit down on his lip to stifle his laughter. Bucky reached behind and gave his waist a warning squeeze.

“Not Steve, ma’am. This is Tony. My, uh… cousin.”

Tony almost choked on his spit.

And because he’s a terrible person, he stepped out from behind Bucky, nodding.

“On his mother’s side,” he improvised. “From Indiana.”

Bucky’s lips pressed together tightly, his mouth twitching. “Uh-huh. Visiting for the summer.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Mrs. Lombardi gushed.

“Isn’t it swell?” said Tony, grinning.

Bucky dropped Tony off at school early Monday morning before his shift at the docks. He followed him through his window, cornered him against Arnie’s bedpost, and kissed him slowly (and far too indecently for six in the morning) before promising to stop by after work.

“You don’t have to do that,” Tony objected weakly, chasing Bucky’s lips as the Alpha moved to pull away.

“Want to,” Bucky murmured, conceding. He curled his tongue around Tony’s and stole the protest from his mouth; Tony’s hitched whine tugging the corners of his mouth upward. “Goin’ steady, remember? I’m tryin’ to win you over.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony’s next breath tripped into a staggered moan as Bucky fisted his fingers into Tony’s unruly hair and sucked at the hinge of his jaw. His eyes rolled back in his head, hips stuttering for desperate purchase against Bucky’s firm, unyielding body. The hard outline of Bucky’s erection against his belly was a teasing, familiar presence after a weekend of sharing a twin bed—though, like usual, the Alpha seemed perfectly content to ignore his own arousal.

“You’re gonna leave marks,” Tony griped with all the conviction of an incensed Labrador. Bucky’s teeth dragged across his pulse point and Tony’s bones pulverized to dust, his head lolling back as if his spine had vanished inside his body. The only thing keeping him from braining himself on the wooden railing was a firm set of fingers urging his chin back in place.

“Babydoll,” Bucky husked into Tony’s jaw, grinning wickedly. Practically sinking his molars into Tony’s strangled mewl. “How am I s’pposed to leave you, huh? All dizzy and sweet for me like this.”

The air that Tony sucked into his lungs tasted like Bucky. It made his vision soft around the edges. “Gonna skip morning classes. Jerk off until I cry.” He swallowed audibly. “Or pass out. Maybe both. Then I’ll probably sleep ’til noon.” With his eyes glazed and his inhibitions ash, Tony hardly registered the candor spilling out of his mouth. He was so pent up he could combust.

Because it was the truth—while the near-constant physical contact Bucky offered over the past few days worked wonders in stabilizing his wonky, imbalanced hormones, all the exposure to the Alpha’s pheromones had also worked him up beyond belief. At this point, he was pretty sure he could come at the drop of a hat, if Bucky commanded it.

Bucky bit out a curse, his scent spiking sharp. He pressed his thumb into Tony’s bottom lip and Tony, feeling petulant and turned on and ten million other things, bit down on the digit. Bucky’s gaze turned molten.

“Good,” Bucky swallowed, throat bobbing.“You deserve it. Better be thinking of me, though.” He pulled away, but not before one last tug to Tony’s bottom lip. Eyes blazing. “You can tell me all about it tonight.”

“Roger Barnes?”

Steve flushes crimson, swiping the selective service card out of Tony’s hands. The ink from the "4-F” stamp smears on Tony’s fingers, still fresh.

“I’m running out of options, alright? I tried ‘Grant Stevens ’ just last month.”

“Ahh. Very stealthy, Nancy Drew.” Tony reclines, releasing a puff of smoke into the cloudless sky above. “Congrats on the impending nuptials, by the way. Where should I expect a wedding invitation from, Washington Heights?”

Steve squints down at the form. “Er, no. Bayonne.”

“NEW JERSEY?” Tony cries, scandalized. He pushes himself up on his elbows, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. “Hate to say it, pal, but it’s no wonder they rejected you this time. Not even Nazis are afraid of schmucks from ‘The Garden State’.”

Steve is smiling again.

Jackpot.

“Now you’re just bein’ mean. You’re uninvited from me and Buck’s wedding.”

“Shame,” Tony sighs. “I would have made the most fetching flower girl.”

“The mouthiest one, maybe.”

“Since when are they mutually exclusive?”

“Aren’t you supposed t’be studying?” Steve reaches for Tony’s long-discarded, school-issued study guide and flips to a page of practice questions. “You’re distractin’ me. We’re supposed to be going over…” he flips to another page and makes a vaguely constipated face. “…‘The Art and Duty of Childrearing’. Hell, is this actually one of your classes?”

Tony’s eyes roll back so far into his skull that he can see his brain.“Go on, then. Let’s review all the ways Mother Nature has blessed my fertile, bountiful womb.”

It’s warm outside, reminiscent of the first day Tony decided to bask in the sunlight on top of an old brick studio in downtown Brooklyn. Just like that first Thursday day, he lies on his back, his shirt untucked, collar unbuttoned, his cheeks turning pink from the sun. 

Just like that day, he inhales small doses of oil paint, and charcoal, and turpentine, and lets the safe, tangy aroma of his friend’s pheromones soothe the jagged edges of his anxiety. Where the low hum of a trusted Alpha's voice—an Alpha he cares about—makes his eyelids droop and his spine soften.

And this time, he lets himself float a little. In a quiet, submissive space.

Or he would, perhaps. If Steve Rogers wasn’t so determined to disrupt his feeble grasp of serenity with questions about his—

“—endometrial lining? This certainly doesn’t seem relevant,” Steve mutters, scratching the back of his neck and peering down at Tony’s study packet as if it were written in Latin. “Are you sure this is yours?”

“Do you reckon the childbirth chapter for fellas would offer better insight?”

It’s not like he was even carrying around his final exam guides for these absurd classes on purpose, mind you. But Rebecca Barnes had cornered him during yesterday’s mealtime, halfway to hysteria with a crazed look in her eye, demanding a study partner since ‘None of the girls would partner with her, not since Sally Mendelsohn told the entire grade that she had been disguising dirty messages in her needlepoint using Morse code.’

“Have you?” Tony asked, impressed.

“It doesn’t matter!” Becca cried. “Sally’s a rotten busybody who wouldn’t know romance if it bit her on her stupid, powdered nose. She wishes she had a fella to send suggestive handkerchiefs to.”

It didn’t matter that he reminded her—repeatedly—that he had never once studied for an Institute exam during his two years of enrollment. His professors would pass him anyway; no one would risk holding back Howard Stark’s pain-in-the-ass son. In fact, Tony had it on good authority that most of the staff were anxiously ticking off his remaining days as a student on their desk calendars.

Becca had stuffed the study guide into his satchel anyway and called him a spoiled swine.

“Some of us can’t risk summer school in this loony bin. Quiz me, before I tell Jamie you’re being a real cad.”

Steve only found the stupid thing because he was digging around Tony’s satchel for a pencil. Which, you know, Tony had so generously offered him in the first place.

Nosy, meddlesome Alpha.

“Rogers, if you care about me at all, you’ll stop using the words ‘gland secretion’ in my presence.”

His complaint falls on deaf ears. Steve scans a paragraph—with excessive concentration, if the lines on his forehead are any indication—mumbles something under his breath, and makes a pencil notation onto the paper.

“Are you… correcting my ‘Art and Duty of Childrearing’ study guide? God, enough of this bullshit. We’re supposed to be criticizing your reckless life choices right now. And your clearly misguided death wish. And how all of this contributes to a self-sacrificial disposition that is, frankly, alarming.” Tony sits up and snatches the packet out of Steve’s hands. “We’re going to have a safe, wonderful time. Contributing here. On home soil. Pinning up posters and, I don’t know, helping old Roosevelt sell war bonds.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve replies. He’s biting back a smile, even if he smells a little sad. “How are we plannin’ on doing that?”

“Betty Grable auctioned off her stockings at a rally last month for forty thousand. How much do you think my tightie whities will go for?”

“I’m not answerin’ that.”

"What happened to that steadfast patriotism, Lieutenant Liberty?”

“Jesus, Tony. These nicknames keep getting worse and worse.”

Tony shrugs, stubbing out his cigarette. “Don’t be a drip, that one was catchy. You already shot down ‘Sergeant Spangles’.”

“That’s Bucky’s ranking. Why not sic him with some dorky comic book alias?”

“How many times do I have to remind you that comic books are neat, Rogers? Not dorky. Stop insulting my prized collectibles, or we’re going to have a separate problem. Y’know what’s dorky? Naming each of your acrylic paints after famous New York landmarks. How is ‘Coney Island’ yellow?”

“It felt right! You told me you thought it was sweet, jerk!”

Tony does think it’s sweet. Tony thinks everything about Steve Rogers is sweet, and safe, and wonderful, and Tony can’t even begin to fathom sending Steve off to war because that would also mean thinking about sending Bucky off to war. And that is an entirely different beast of a problem that Tony’s not ready to poke at with a thirty-foot stick.

“I think some shade names deserve careful reconsideration, that’s all.”

“We’ve already talked about this. I’m not calling my brown paint ‘Tony Stark’s Eyes’”.

“Well, pardon me, Rembrandt. It beats ‘Bronx Zoo’. Do you know what I envision? Mud. Screaming children. Animal crap.”

They’re still bickering half-heartedly when the rooftop door creaks open and Bucky slips through, looking handsome and work-weary and sending Tony’s heart tripping pathetically in his chest. Not unlike their very first encounter. Or any of their subsequent encounters.

“I can hear you two blathering on halfway down the block,” Bucky says, sending them both a look of mock exasperation. He crouches in front of Tony and ruffles his hair. Tony swats the intrusion away without any gusto, pretending he hasn’t been keening for the Alpha’s touch all day. Bucky links their fingers together instead and kisses the back of his hand.

“Welcome home, honey,” Tony says drily. “Thoughts on selling my underwear for war bonds?”

“Very noble. S’this a private bidding?”

Steve’s subsequent eye-roll is so delicious Tony can taste it.

They don’t go to Ruby’s. Bucky’s too tired, and Steve’s too cranky, and Tony’s too hungry. They end up at some seedy Irish pub that doesn’t blink twice at Tony’s designation (small mercies), and Tony feasts quietly on Shepherd’s Pie while Bucky drinks a Guinness and plays footsie with him under the bar.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with staying here, Stevie. We have this same conversation every week. Plenty to do to help out without getting yourself killed.”

“Easy for you t’say,” Steve mutters. He’s only halfway through his own beer but more than halfway to being tipsy. “You enlisted. We both enlisted. Tried to, anyway. Enlist.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky finishes his pint and licks the foam off his upper lip, pushing the glass out of reach in frustration. “Priorities have changed. If I could do things differently, I would.”

Tony shovels a large forkful of pie into his mouth and chews slowly, staring at his plate with fixed intensity.

“They’d take you anyway,” Steve grumbles. “Sergeant Barnes. Whole army’s probably filled with guys like you. Real Alphas.”

“You’re being a real asshole, y’know that?” Bucky replies. He snatches Steve’s beer from his grasp. “You’re cut off. Here, doll.” He pushes the glass in Tony’s direction. “Put me outta my fuckin’ misery.”

Tony scrunches his nose. “Don’t love a stout, personally.”

Steve steals his beer back and sulks.

“They don’t want me either, Stevie,” Tony tries to offer his consolation around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Not even as a nurse. Or, I don’t know, a French prostitute. Like the rest of the Omegas. Not that I’d make much of a healthcare provider.”

“I know,” Steve says miserably. “I watch you try to feed the rest of your paracetamol to Mrs. Lombardi’s cat.”

Tony grimaces.

“Jury’s still out on the French prostitute, though,” Bucky says. “Could definitely picture you in some nice lace garters.” He winks, and Tony’s cheeks flame as he’s reduced to a puddle of goo.

“Anyway,” Tony coughs. He waves his fork in the air. “Fuck ‘em. We don’t need ‘em.” He purposefully does not let his mind wander to a specific set of pencil-sketched blueprints sitting in some government-sealed folder on Howard’s desk.

Bucky reaches out to stroke his thumb over Tony’s warm cheek. “Their loss. No Germans would be a match for this big, beautiful brain.” Bucky is smirking, but he says it softly, meaningfully, and it’s a touch too honest for this shitty pub. Tony almost swoons into his pie.

“Don’t forget my dashing good looks,” Tony says stupidly, instead.

“Couldn’t forget those if I tried.”

“M’leaving,” Steve says, draining the last of his stout and tossing a couple of coins down onto the bartop. He stumbles out of his stool, and Tony watches him warily. “I’m behind on next week’s mockups. And I promised Missus O’Doyle I’d check on her kids before bed; she’s workin’ late tonight.”

Tony watches him with a frown. The Alpha smells dejected and sullen, and the pheromones make his nose twitch. He folds his hands in his lap and tries to ignore the impulses that tell him to reach out and provide comfort, like a good little caretaker.

“I’ll see you on Monday? I promised to reassemble your toaster. Not that it’s… irreversibly damaged, or anything.” Saturday evening’s check-in phone call with Jarvis had left Tony feeling fidgety. He was alone in the apartment—the Alphas had gone to pick up groceries for supper to give Tony a bit of privacy—and the nearest kitchen appliance immediately fell victim to his oldest anxious habit.

When the roommates returned thirty minutes later, they found Tony sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by wires, a screwdriver in hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I’m reconfiguring its heating elements to create a signal that can, uh, disrupt nearby radio frequencies. It’s made of nichrome, so it’s pretty easy to repurpose the material to create electromagnetic interference. Once I modify the power source, it’ll oscillate at radio frequencies instead of, y’know, heating up. ” Tony explained sheepishly. “A portable signal jammer, if you want to get technical. Sorry about the mess. And your toaster. It was kind of a piece of junk, anyway.” He paused his ramblings. “Nope, didn’t mean that. It’s a lovely appliance. I’m certain it’s performed its job dutifully over the years, producing many slices of golden-brown Wonder Bread. I’ll fix it—maybe? I hope you both aren’t too sentimentally attached to it."

Bucky knelt on the floor in front of Tony’s mess of bolts and scrap metal. “We leave you alone for half an hour, and you get bored enough to commit espionage in our kitchen?” He swiped at Tony’s chin with his thumb to remove a rogue oil smudge, eyes crinkling with mirth. Meanwhile, Steve held up the homemade contraption and inspected it as if it were something sacred and not just something Tony hastily soldered together with a Zippo he found on Bucky’s nightstand.

Tony rubbed at the back of his neck. “Nothing that fun. Best case scenario, it’ll work for localized interference. The radius is way too much to cause significant damage, given that it’s a… toaster. I already tested it out on nearby coms, and was able to intercept the local police station. Also, your neighbor’s episode of Stella Dallas.”

Steve leaves the bar with a lukewarm wave and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and Bucky squeezes Tony’s knee under the bar top as he promises his roommate that he won’t be too far behind.

“He gets like this, sometimes,” Bucky says. He waves down the bartender to close out his tab, pulling bills out of his wallet. “He gets so caught up in the injustice of it all, of being turned away, that he doesn’t realize they’re savin’ his life. Sometimes, I wish they’d stamp his damn form just to shut him up. And that the war would wrap up before he realized what he was signin’ himself up for.” Bucky rakes his fingers through his hair, stirring a twinge of sympathy in Tony as he suddenly notices how exhausted the Alpha looks.

“I wouldn’t be able to think straight if I knew he was over there. Kid’s got a chronic illness for every damn letter of the alphabet. It’s bad enough to know that I’ll be leavin’ my own people behind, eventually. But at least… it’s safe here. And he’ll have you.” Bucky gives him a tired, crooked smile. The private one he reserves for Tony. “I have no doubt you two knuckleheads can find enough trouble to get into in Brooklyn without giving the Europeans their own headache.”

Tony considers this for a moment. “Hearing ‘no’ all the time is one thing. It becomes a pretty strong incentive to get the same stubborn jackasses to change their mind and start saying ‘yes’.” He pushes a few peas around his plate with his fork. “Choosing to say ‘no’ for yourself is a privilege, I think. For some people. Like… Steve.”

Bucky—who lives rent-free in Tony’s incessant inner monologue, apparently—hums quietly.

“Let’s get you home, gorgeous.”

“What’s the point?” Tony bemoans, sliding off his stool with the swiftness of a drunken sloth. “I’ve already missed curfew. Byron probably assumes I’m out cavorting with my secret harem.”

“I’ve already told you that you can spend the night. Offer still stands, don’t have to ask twice.”

Tony feels something warm pooling at the base of his spine. Bucky has extended some variation of this invitation to him every night this week, and while Tony keeps deflecting, the allure remains strong.

“Thought you were trying to make an honest Omega out of me, Barnes?”

“Come with me to the restroom, and I’ll make an honest Omega outta you right now.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice.

It’s not the most romantic spot, truthfully, to fool around, but Tony Stark has allowed Bucky to kiss him in secluded alleyways that smell a little like dumpster and against splintered doorways that dig into his back, so he’s not overly picky.

So when Bucky gets his hands on Tony’s waist and his mouth on his throat the way that makes him go fuzzy in the head, Tony almost forgets that they’re surrounded by leaking faucets and suspiciously stained urinals.

Almost.

“What if—oh—someone walks in?” he gasps, referring to the four (maybe five, if he’s being generous) other patrons currently occupying the establishment.

“Then they’ll get dinner and a show,” Bucky rasps. He captures Tony’s mouth again before the Omega can squawk in protest and Tony grips his belt for purchase, his whole body useless and pliant. His response to Bucky is always easy and physical, preparing itself for any likely scenario—the warm coiling in his belly and rush of slick that graces his underwear reminding him that yes, that scenario could easily include a random toilet in some sleazy Brooklyn pub.

Bucky always kisses Tony like he has all the time in the world to do so. The intensity changes, as does the urgency, but Tony’s learning that he likes these kisses with Bucky best. Deep, slow. Hard and bruising. The flat of his tongue curling around Tony’s and caressing his own like he’s trying to swallow the sighs and moans right out of the Omega’s throat.

Bucky takes and Tony gives, as much as he can, and he’s rewarded with the glorious ebb and flow of the Alpha’s heady scent. Encasing Tony in a fog thick enough to suffocate him.

“You smell so good,” Bucky growls, voice low. His warm breath fans across Tony’s cheek. “Jesus. Why do you smell so fuckin’ good?”

“That would be eau de toilette. Try not to inhale any more bleach; I think it’s messing with your synapses.” It’s unfair, really, because Bucky smells delectable, too. Practically indecent, really, for a public restroom.

There’s a predatory gleam to the Alpha’s eye that makes Tony think that he won’t be leaving the building with his dignity (or his underwear) intact, and Bucky’s grip tightens on his hip as he moves to drop his mouth back onto Tony’s, but they’re both interrupted, suddenly.

A small, choked sob echoes from stall behind them.

Both boys freeze instantly.

“Did you hear th—” Bucky starts, and Tony slaps a hand over his mouth. His heart takes a stuttering, stacatto beat in his chest.

Another stifled sob. This one louder than the previous.

And there’s no way that Tony isn’t the one hallucinating this time—that he isn’t the one who inhaled too many floor-cleaning chemicals—because he knows the source of that blubbering. He could recognize it in his sleep.

His poker face must be utter shit, because Bucky looks at him in alarm. “Do you know him?” he asks, his hands trailing down to Tony’s elbows. Steadying him.

Tony swallows audibly. “No. Nope.”

A loud, wet sniffle chimes in from the stall.

“Tony?”

Tony curses.

Bucky’s hand tightens on his arm. Tony drops his head to the wall behind him, letting it thump against the wood paneling. He closes his eyes and curses the constant, relentless situational irony that seems to plague his life.

“Arnie?” Tony replies. He scrubs a hand over his face. “S’that you, Roth?”

Please be wrong, please be wrong, please be wrong, please be wrong—

“Hi, Tony,” the voice hiccups. Then, from the seclusion of the corner bathroom stall where he’s huddled away, Arnie Roth bursts into tears.

Tony stares at the ceiling helplessly.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow and turns his head to face Arnie’s outburst. His gaze darts between Tony and Tony’s weeping roommate. Whatever he sees in Tony’s face must make him hesitate, however, and something heartbreakingly gentle slashes across his own features.

Feeling raw and all sorts of strange, he pulls out of Bucky’s embrace and strides over to the stall. “Roth?” He raps his knuckles on the door. “Roth, I can see you sitting down there. Not very seemly, by the way. Probably getting all sorts of weird stains on those nice slacks of yours.”

“M’okay,” the Omega says wobbly. “Floor’s clean.”

Tony’s nose wrinkles. He narrowly avoids stepping on a piece of toilet roll. “Think we have slightly different hygienic standards, but, alright. Sure. Wanna open up?”

He waits. Nothing happens.

He turns to Bucky and shrugs.

“I tried,” he mouths.

Bucky sends him an exasperated look. He’s still standing in the corner of the restroom, guarding the door. Giving Tony space.

Giving Arnie space.

Tony rolls his eyes. He knocks on the door again.

“C’mon, Arnie. Can’t a fella say hi to his favorite roommate?”

“I was your only roommate,” Arnie sniffs primly. “Your favorite roommate was yourself.”

Bucky’s mouth quirks.

Miraculously, the stall door clicks open.

Arnie Roth is as drunk as a skunk. His eyes are glazed with tears and intoxication; his clothes are wrinkled, and he sits with his bony arms wrapped around his knees. His skin is as sunken and pallid as a ghost, and he reeks of booze and distress and Tony fights the instinctual urge to recoil.

“Hey, pal,” Tony says instead. “You look great.” The acid in his stomach does somersaults, urging him to get lost and seek immediate comfort in the arms of his Alpha. He wants to pull his own hair out. He wants to spit the terrible taste in his mouth onto the floor. “How’s the bender?”

Arnie groans and drops his forehead onto the rim of the open toilet. Delightful.

“M’drunk,” he says miserably.

“Uh-huh, I can see that,” Tony replies, whipping around and shooting a frantic look at Bucky. He doesn’t know what sort of desperation he’s signaling, precisely, but Bucky’s locking the restroom door and standing over his shoulder in an instant. Tony can smell the exact moment Bucky perceives Arnie in all his boozed-up glory—an Omega reacting to another Omega’s distress is one thing; an Alpha reacting to an Omega’s distress is an entirely different innate, primal beast.

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters.

Even Arnie swims through his inebriated stupor long enough to latch onto Bucky’s pheromones. He squints at the intrusion, nostrils flaring. 

“Alpha?” He mumbles.

“Not quite,” Tony bites out. He edges closer to Bucky until his shoulder blade presses into the Alpha’s sternum. Bucky grazes his knuckles against the small of his back.“Where’s… Marcus?”

Arnie frowns. “Michael?”

“Sure. Him.”

Arnie groans and drops his head back onto the toilet bowl. The unexpected pull drags the wrinkled collar of his shirt downward, revealing the pale, veiny stretch of his neck.

Tony chokes on a high-pitched, strained whine that punches out of his lungs when he’s met with the sight of Arnie’s mating bite. Red, tender. Fresh. Something ugly and visceral pools in his gut and blood pounds in his ears, hot and heavy like thunder.

He tries to stagger back, but his feet won’t move. His hand instinctively twitches for his own throat before he aborts the movement. He feels the burn of Arnie’s mating bite as if it has been seared onto his own flesh. Hot and blistering, like a brand.

For better or for worse, Tony made a conscious effort to avoid thinking about Arnie after his sixteen-year-old roommate was pulled from school. Two months earlier, Arnie’s situation served as both a cautionary tale and a sobering reminder. If Tony wasn’t vigilant, if he didn’t play his cards right, he risked becoming Arnie: stripped of his own choices, forced to bond with some undesirable outcast for whatever social, political, or financial gain his parents deemed fit.

A distant, logical part of Tony knew what Arnie’s fate had in store. He knew that Arnie would go home, succumb to his heat, and emerge several days later biologically linked to an Alpha. He sat through class. He skimmed the textbooks. He knew the science.

He detached himself from Arnie because it didn’t matter that Arnie was the only other male Omega Tony had ever known. They weren’t the same. Tony wasn’t weak like Arnie; he wasn’t compliant like Arnie; he wasn’t going to roll over and show his belly to the first Alpha his parents threw at him. 

And then Tony met Bucky.

And Bucky pressed his thumb into Tony’s unblemished mating gland and whispered soft promises into the base of his throat, and Tony could almost picture the Alpha’s canines sinking into the skin and he wanted it, in that moment. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything, more than he ever even knew he could want. His teeth ached with it.

And suddenly that unfathomable, corporeal promise of bonding didn’t feel so abhorrent. His desires didn’t feel like a consequence of his biology. Tony simply craved, without worrying about the repercussions. And for a few quiet, peaceful moments, his desire didn’t feel like something he had to fight.

Tony wonders if Arnie had wanted it. At the height of his heat, most likely fogged up and overwhelmed by pheromones, controlled by pleasure and need, he felt like he wanted it, too. At least for a moment.

Tony stares at Arnie’s mating bite and it taunts him like a punishment. A cruel reminder of Tony’s ugliest insecurities, his projections onto the Omega boy in front of him who didn’t deserve Tony’s internal scorn just because Tony couldn’t come to terms with his own bleak kismet.

Bucky releases a low rumble, and his hand drifts up to barely ghost the back of Tony’s neck. The Alpha’s pheromones pierce the bathroom to cloud Tony’s own—a terrible concoction of confusion, anxiety, and ill-timed arousal in response to his momentary lapse in judgement.

“Dinner. We were at dinner. ‘Cross the street. Down the street? Dunno,” Arnie slurs. He rubs a palm across his clammy forehead. “Ran into… his friends. From work. They joined. Ignored me. Which is fine. They were borin’.” A loud sniffle. “Had to use the men’s room, but they wouldn’t… wouldn’t let me in, without Michael. Without m’Alpha. ‘An he was busy. So I left. T’find a different bathroom. Didn’t even… didn’t even notice, I don’t think.”

Like most public places requiring Tony to have a chaperone after his presentation, it’s not uncommon for upscale establishments to require male Omegas to be accompanied to and from restrooms. For the Omega's safety and to avoid distracting other male patrons, which is straight crock, mind you, and Tony would sometimes just like to take a piss in peace, thank you very much.

“Ended up here. And… and I was alone. No Michael. Some men were real nice ‘an bought me drinks ‘an stuff. Said I was real pretty.”

“I’ll bet,” Tony grumbles.

“Dunno… dunno what happened. Never drank before. Wasn’t ‘llowed. Dunno if—if I like it. Tastes weird. Head hurts. Stomach hurts.”

And then Arnie’s yacking into the toilet.

Tony lurches forward, throwing himself to his knees to sweep the younger Omega’s hair back as he empties his guts and sorrows into the basin. Bucky curses and kneels next to Tony, rubbing a hand up and down Arnie’s sweat-drenched back.

“That’s it, pal," Bucky murmurs gently. His voice is a soft hum, mirroring the tone he used with Tony when Tony broke down blubbering over something inconsequential during the weekend, and Tony shudders instinctively. Even though he isn’t the one retching up cheap liquor. “Easy, that’s it. Get it all out.”

Arnie trembles beneath their grip, and Tony does his best to refrain from wincing as he blinks up at the ceiling and wonders how he went from necking with Bucky against the wall to holding his vomitous ex-roommate in his arms in a matter of minutes.

Bucky continues to soothe Arnie as the younger boy heaves and sobs, muttering gentle encouragements that make Tony feel bizarrely territorial. He bottles up his horrifically misplaced envy as best as he can while pushing Arnie’s bangs off his forehead, as this is clearly not the time, but the look Bucky shoots him over Arnie’s slumped body lets him know that the Alpha can detect it.

Bucky’s lips twitch and Tony stabs his tongue into his cheek and recognizes quickly that the two of them are completely ill-equipped to handle a situation of this emotional magnitude.

He wishes Steve were here.

“Where’s Matthew now?” Tony asks the ceiling.

“Michael,” Bucky interjects.

“No clue. Prolly out lookin’ for me.” Arnie says, and then pukes some more. Bucky grimaces and pats the Omega on the back. Tony glares at his hand.

“How long have you been hiding in your porcelain tower, Rapunzel?”

Arnie groans and bats Tony’s hand away. “T’many questions. No more questions.”

Bucky takes over. He pulls Tony away and pushes his palm for Arnie’s forehad. Arnie sags. “C’mon, Arnie. Help us out here, you’re doin’ so well. How long ago did you leave the restaurant, kid?”

The Omega whimpers. Tony feels like strangling something.

Or drowning his ex-roommate in the toilet.

Bucky, to his infinite credit, shoots him an apologetic look over his shoulder. Tony glares back.

“Not that long. Maybe… maybe that long. Like, twenty minutes?” Arnie pauses for several seconds. “Oh, no. S’not right. Maybe an’ hour. Or longer.”

“Fabulous,” Tony says.

“We need to find his Alpha,” Bucky says, always the voice of reason. “But I don’t wanna leave him like this.” He’s still holding Arnie upright. Tony resists the urge to grind his molars.

“I don’t… I’m not sure what he looks like. I never met him, or anything,” He says uselessly.

“I’m not leavin’ you here either, sweet boy.” Nothing about Tony feels particularly sweet at the moment, but the endearment is an olive branch to Tony’s hostile body language, so he accepts it begrudgingly. Bucky’s smooth Brooklyn drawl is an easy weakness of his. “We’ll wait ’til he sobers up a little. It’ll help, getting it out of his system.”

“Thank you,” Tony says instead. It comes out as a whisper. He’s sitting on the floor now, cleanliness be damned. His energy has been fully zapped. He gestures to Arnie vaguely. “For… you know.”

Bucky’s expression morphs into something soft, something belongs to Tony and Tony alone. Tony holds it close to his chest. “Don’t have to thank me, doll. What were we gonna do, leave him?”

In response, Arnie echoes something unintelligible into the toilet and then: “Don’ leave me. Feels nice. You feel nice.”

Tony snorts. “I take it back. That’s enough acts of service for one day.”

Bucky’s frowning at Arnie now. “What’s his Alpha like?” He whispers.

Tony shrugs. “Older. Teacher. Has kids, if I remember. Liable for negligence, clearly.”

“How much older?”

Tony picks at a loose thread on his pants. “Late thirties? Early forties, maybe? Could’ve been worse.” It’s the truth.

Bucky says nothing for a long moment. And then: “He’s bonded.”

Tony nods. “Noticed that, myself.”

“M’bonded,” Arnie garbles helpfully.

“That’s right, pal,” Tony says. “Was it everything you hoped and dreamed?” Arnie Roth, with his kind, supportive parents and his hopeless sexual naivety and eager willingness to sacrifice his body for the pipe dream of securing an Alpha who would keep him safe and protected from harm.

Fat lot of good that did him.

Tony doesn’t expect Arnie to answer, so it startles him when the Omega lifts his head, wipes at his mouth, and leans his head back against the wall behind him. Bucky pulls away but keeps his hands braced until Arnie steadies himself.

“Don’ remember much of the bonding,” Arnie says quietly. His eyes are glazed over, unfocused, like he’s talking to himself. “Think I blacked out, by the end.” Tony swallows. He drifts in and out of his own heats, sometimes. When the sensations become too much to bear. “Woke up with the bite. Hurt for a while. Felt different. Could feel… him.” He blinks rapidly a few times, and Tony suddenly wants to reach across and shake the Omega’s shoulders so he doesn’t have to hear anymore.

“Let’s not,” Tony says instead, knowing where a bout of liquid courage combined with a loose mouth can lead. He wants to change the subject but he’s paralyzed, and Bucky’s gazing at him like he doesn’t know what to do, leaving Tony with his jaw wired shut.

Arnie’s expression clears, briefly, and he blinks up at Tony like he suddenly remembers the other Omega is sharing the cramped stall with him. “Y’told me it wouldn’t hurt, once. Before… before I left. You said—you said it’s what we’re s’posed to do.”

“Arnie,” Tony warns.

“Yeah, you did. You said that t’me. You smelled scared, though. Knew you didn’t believe it. What you were sayin’. But I trusted you anyway. And then… and then…” Arnie swallows, and rubs at his eyes, and Tony’s heart plummets into his stomach.

Perpendicular to him, Bucky shifts. Tony can’t bring himself to look at him. He wants to disappear.

“Roth,” Tony bites out sharply. “Shut the fuck up.”

“S’not so bad, every time. Not when… when my body wants it. Like in heat. But sometimes—sometimes, it still hurts. Just thought… y’should know.”

There’s no sound, for several moments. Just the roaring of Tony’s pulse in his own ears.

Tony studies his knees. He yanks hard enough on the loose thread to rip a hole into the fabric at his kneecap. His fingers tremble.

Bucky avoids Tony’s gaze entirely. He stares at the floor with a blazing intensity sharp enough to burn holes into the linoleum.

He smells murderous.

Arnie, blissfully aware of his verbal detonation, lolls his head toward the bathroom door.

“Oh,” he says simply. “Michael.”

Tony and Bucky snap their heads up in sync. The bathroom door is locked.

“No one there, buddy,” Tony croaks. His vocal chords feel as though they’ve been severed by a serated knife.

“Can smell him,” Arnie says simply.

The banging on the door starts two seconds later.

Michael Bech is tall but not as tall as Bucky, with a full head of white hair. His skin is tan and his belly a little soft, and he has smile lines.

For someone whose biological companion has supposedly been missing for more over an hour, he doesn't smell particularly distressed. He tsks when he pulls a moaning, barf-covered Arnie into his arms, and cracks a joke about “Omegas and alcohol consumption, amiright?”

“Couldn’t find this one anywhere, thought he walked all the way back to Manhattan,” Michael says, eyes crinkling. “Had to check every building on the row. Nice fellas at the bar finally told me they saw a wisp of a thing stumble into this here pub, smelling like a fresh rose, and I thought, ’Yep, sure sounds like my Arnie’.”

Arnie sighs and tucks his face into Michael’s neck. Tony turns away.

Michael thanks Bucky for his help, and Bucky shakes his hand with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Michael doesn’t acknowledge Tony, but he spares him a fleeting, curious glance and says, “Anyhow, sorry for all the trouble. You know how Omegas can be.”

Tony ignores him, accustomed to the slight, but Bucky openly bristles.

Michael tugs Arnie’s collar up over his throat before they leave.

“Call me, if you can,” Bucky whispers. They’re outside The Institute, and Tony is looking anywhere but the Alpha. His blood feels like lead in his veins.

“Sure,” he says. He scrapes at a rock with his shoe.

“Tony,” Bucky says, more firmly. “Tony. Sweetheart. I need to know you’re alright. Can you do that for me? If you have a moment, just… give me ring.” The words sound distorted in Tony’s ears. Warped.

A firm hand grips his chin. “Doll.”

“Mhmm,” Tony answers.

Tony doesn’t like the way Bucky smells. Well, he does—he always likes the way Bucky smells. But right now, Bucky smells like he did when he found Tony in his window. It makes his jaw ache. It burns inside his nostrils, acrid and oversensitive.

In fact, every minute twinge in his body feels heightened. His neck feels stiff, and there’s a dull pounding behind his eyes. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He feels like scratching himself. Or clawing at his skin.

He also feels like sagging into Bucky’s neck and disassociating. Surrendering his thoughts and his body to the Alpha in front of him, who will surely take away the pain and soothe out the ache, if Tony just lets him.

But he can’t. So he just blinks at the street lamps and grinds his teeth and supresses the swooping, churning feeling in his belly and ignores the way his glands throb when Bucky grips his chin a little tighter and lets his vision go a little unfocused.

Tony doesn’t know what Bucky detects, but the Alpha’s pupils dilate in the reflection of the streetlight and he presses his forehead to Tony’s. The Alpha’s body is taut, full of restrained tension.

“Omega,” he murmurs softly. Oh.

Tony sighs.

“Call me, tomorrow night. When you get home. I don’t care how late. Can you do that for me, sweet thing? Can you try and promise me?”

Tony nods slowly.

Bucky exhales visibly. “Good. Good boy. Thank you. As late as you need, okay? Just need t’hear your voice.” Tony trembles at the praise, like Bucky knew he would. When he falls into the Alpha’s embrace, Bucky’s arms are there to catch him.

“I’ll miss you this weekend,” Bucky says into his hair. “Who else is gonna hog all the covers?”

Tony nips at his collarbone. “S’only way to get you t’stop kickin’ in your sleep.” He feels so warm. He feels sore. Every inhalation of Bucky’s woodsy, wintery musk feels like sensory overload. “M’sorry,” he says before he can stop himself.

Bucky’s arms lock around him like a vice.

“What’re you sorry for, baby?”

What is he sorry for? Tony hides in Bucky’s shirt. He could suffocate happily here, he thinks.

“Tony?” Bucky’s hand comes up to lightly scratch at the hair at the base of Tony’s neck, and Tony’s spine goes lax. He drops his head back and shudders. “Words, gorgeous. Talk to me.”

Tony scrunches up his nose. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants Bucky to kiss him.

He wants Bucky to fuck him.

The thought has him swallowing down a moan. God, he wants Bucky to fuck him. He needs it. He would be so perfect for him, and Bucky would make him feel so good, he knows it. His cock perks in interest, and he shivers and presses his hips into Bucky’s thigh to seek out friction.

Bucky goes still. “Tony,” he warns.

Tony likes the way Bucky says his name. Low, and gravelly. He wonders what the Alpha’s voice would sound like saying other things.

The things that Bucky says in his dreams.

Large hands cradle his face. Blown pupils find his own. Bucky peers down at him, expression carefully guarded. He presses a thumb into Tony’s cheek, steadily adding pressure to pull Tony back down to Earth.

“What’s goin’ on, Tony?” Bucky’s thumb traces the slant of his cheekbone. Tony blinks at him blearily. “You smell…” The Alpha stops, mouth twisting. His nostrils twitch, and so does Tony’s prick. “Is this because of Arnie? What he said?”

No, Tony doesn’t want to think about Arnie. He doesn’t want to dwell on anything that the other Omega said—the way he blabbed all of Tony’s darkest, most shameful insecurities out loud in a public restroom stall, of all places. Right in front of Bucky.

“I’ve gotta go,” Tony says—mumbles, really—and pulls out of Bucky’s grip. “I’ve gotta—I’ve got. Homework. Studying.”

“Tony.”

“I’ll call you. Promise. I’ll try. From the Jarvises’ phone. Tomorrow night.”

“Tony.” Bucky reaches for him but Tony flinches out of his touch, and the Alpha’s hands drop to his sides. The look on his Bucky’s face morphs into hurt and Tony has to look away so his own despair doesn’t chew at his insides.

“Don’t do this, Tony. Not after last weekend. Talk to me, sweetheart. M’not going anywhere.”

“I’m okay,” Tony says. “Really. I’m… I’m fine. I’m great.”

Tony doesn’t know what he is, exactly. But he’s not great. And he’s probably not fine, or even remotely okay, really.

And he knows this, for certain, twenty-four hours later.

When he’s sitting around his family’s dining room table, stuffed into another godforsaken suit, sandwiched between his mother and Tiberius Stone.

Feverish. Burning. Plummeting straight into heat.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 3.2 - What Not to Wear

VLAD

It’s Wednesday, two days until his date with Alice, and Vlad is no closer to having something to wear. William volunteered to go shopping, but Vlad declined. He doesn’t have the money to find something that meets his exacting standards, and the salespeople always complain when he tears out the tags before trying anything on. 

It’s honestly a fucking headache. 

He drops his bag by the front door and toes off his boots. His mother hums in the kitchen, frying up something divine. 

He stuffs the simoleons they found on the body the other day into the jar on the counter. Truthfully, the Strauds didn’t lack money; it was just that cleaning it already took a lot of effort, and they didn’t want any unnecessary attention. 

Plus, his mother thinks a lack of simoleons keeps them grounded. “Capitalism rots the brain and erodes free will” is her favorite saying. That and “It doesn’t make much sense to pay when you can steal.”

“You’re home!” she turns and smiles, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. Vlad fidgets but doesn’t fight. “I thought you were eating on campus,” she says when he finally twists out of her grasp.

“William has a study group and the cafeteria is serving macaroni salad. Do you know how long that food has been sitting? Ages. It’d be the perfect cover for a poisoning. I’m surprised I’m alive.”

His mother snorts. “No one would murder you by poisoning a college cafeteria. The likelihood of you getting medical attention before your body gives out is too high. Even fast-acting poisons are slower than you think.”

She would know. Julia Straud is an expert in poisons. It’s an interest of Vlad’s, too. Usually, they talk about it for hours, but today, he isn’t in the mood.

He heads for the couch and collapses, letting the muted feeling that’s been dogging him all week wash over. The high from the brawl with Christopher might’ve carried him, but one punch was nothing to get excited about. Instead, the buzzing under his skin has simply grown when, for once, he’d just like silence.

“Why so sad, my sweet darling?”

Vlad’s eyes flash open. His mother is standing over him, smirking. 

“Is sleeping illegal in this house?” he grumbles, “I didn’t think that was one of the rules.”

“Don’t be disrespectful. You know it’s not,” she shoves at his legs until he sits up. “Why do you look like someone just shit in your oats?”

It isn’t any use keeping secrets, although it’s not expressly against the rules. His mother has a way of hunting down every hidden truth. She couldn’t wrangle their merry band of lunatics otherwise. “I have a date—”

“Oh, my lands—”

“Do not get excited.” He cuts her a sharp look. “It may go nowhere. Your expectations should be in the basement,” Vlad pauses, “Actually, lower than that. Your expectations should be in hell.” 

It’s not that he didn’t understand William’s advice about being a better version of himself. It just seems impossible to follow it. Pretending is fine in short bursts, like when the police are questioning him, but pretending for the sole purpose of getting someone to like him? Even if he could manage it, the whole thing would be so exhausting he’d need a week of sleep to recover. 

And what if Alice was like Fuifui? What if she got confused about who he really was?

“You could buy something you like,” she offers, “Go to one of the fancy boutiques in town where the salespeople peddle temptation to ruin like the devil taught them.”

“It’s called clothing, mother, not ‘temptation to ruin.’ And obviously, that’s not an option. I don’t know why you, of all sims, would suggest that.”

Her eyes narrow, “Because I love you. If you want to buy something to wear on this date, then I will make it happen. By any means necessary.”

It’s not worth it. Holding this territory is hard enough without assholes like Jacques Villareal getting ideas in his head because he thinks Julia's spendthrift son is a weak spot.

“Never mind,” Vlad groans, “And I actually mean it. If I find money under my pillow or in my wallet, I will be fucking pissed.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 2 of 4)

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday (MLC Mind Control Bug Fic Edition)

Happy Wednesday! Have some of a new MLC fic I just started working on!

I realized I had very strong feelings about amnesia in fics (as someone who has experienced it before), and so a new MLC one-shot fic was born, in which amnesiac a-Fei discovers the mind control bug in his neck his first night in Lotus Tower. (This part takes place after his failed attempts to get it out.)

To anyone who is missing my MLC longfic excerpts, the plan is to continue with them next week! (I'm hoping to get this one up on AO3 by the end of the weekend!)

A-Fei’s head swam a little with each step, but the pain had mostly subsided to a dull, manageable thud in time with his pulse. He was distantly tempted to pull himself free from Li Lianhua’s hands and walk unaided back to Lotus Tower, gathering enough energy to collapse only once he had reached his bed upstairs. But Li Lianhua gripped his arm more tightly the first time he even felt like he might be about to wobble, and yanked it over his shoulder until he was using Li Lianhua like half a crutch. And suddenly, not touching Li Lianhua seemed unacceptable.

“What were you thinking?” Li Lianhua muttered again, wrapping his other arm around a-Fei’s back and resting his hand on his waist. “You probably reopened your stab wound, collapsing like that. I really should be charging you for this, you know. You’re getting my professional expertise for free.” His grip tightened on a-Fei’s waist too close to the stab wound, sending ripples of angry fire coursing up his torso. 

A-Fei hissed out a pained breath. “It’s worth exactly what I’m paying for it.”

Li Lianhua pulled his hand away from the injured waist like he’d been burned. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, putting his hand much higher up this time, closer to a-Fei’s ribcage. “I was just checking to see if you’re bleeding through the bandages. It’s a necessary part of the process.”

“Hmm,” a-Fei hummed, taking several more steps and relishing the sensation of the man’s hand against his side. His fingers were cold but the touch warmed him nonetheless. “And am I?” 

“Are you what?”

“Bleeding through the bandages?”

“I didn’t finish checking. You’re too terrible a patient,” Li Lianhua said, squeezing a-Fei’s forearm in what seemed like an apology. “I’ll have to examine it more inside.”  

“I see,” a-Fei said, taking another step, his mind still turning over the grip on his arm. Had they touched often? The idea of anyone else touching him made him want to unsheathe his dao, but with Li Lianhua, he would almost rather chance one of his bai hui’s acupoint’s lightening bolts of pain than step away. And as much as he disliked the idea of needing his wound examined, it would give him the opportunity to examine Li Lianhua. And to continue observing his own reactions to the man’s hands. “And what exactly does this examination entail?” he teased. “Based on your earlier example, I assume pinching or punching the wound? Or stabbing it again to check the durability of the healing skin?”

Li Lianhua snorted. “Only if you keep insulting my competence.” Then he paused, mid-step, his grip on a-Fei loosening. “Ah. I’m just going to look at the plaster. If blood has soaked through it, I’ll pour hemostatic powder on the wound first and then put a new plaster on. You’ll just need to untie your robes, but they can stay on. I’ll be quick.”

Huh. Unexpected. He had been joking, but actual information about what to expect didn’t hurt. Although something about the way he mentioned robes was strange. Almost as though Li Lianhua was uncomfortable about it. There was no reason for that to be an awkward request from someone providing medical treatment–

Unless they had been in a relationship, or at least had prior sexual history together.

It would certainly explain his response to Li Lianhua’s hands touching him. 

He’d have to investigate more to be sure, since asking would be sure to prompt more lies.

[thebestofoneshots]

WOLFSTAR X READER SERIES

Gilded Constellations | THE INTERLUDE

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Hey Lovelies, welcome to “The Interlude” of Gilded Constellations. We’ve basically already gotten to 100 k words in this story and that’s absolutely insane!!! Which is why I thought of doing a little thing where I could interact with my readers. As a thank you for being there and supporting me so much through this journey. 

And so… this little Q&A was born. Those who didn't get to ask their questions, don’t worry my darlings, my ask will be open all week for you to ask whatever you want. It’s a mini event that will last from today ‘till next wednesday. 

But yes, it does mean this week we won’t get a new chapter D: 

Don’t worry, it will definitely be worth it since the next couple of episodes are two that I’ve put absolute extra care on crafting, and I will put just as much care on revising. I’ve been quite literally posting non stop for 15 weeks consecutively. That’s almost 4 months, what?!?! 

I needed my tiny lil break, besides I wanted to dedicate this bit of time to work on my Maraudween Special smutty series that will include some interesting mini AUs, so those that read my other stuff and not just Gilded Constellations will be quite literally treated this Halloween. There will be a lot of posts these next few weeks. Although, I might be releasing some of the Maraudween stories at the beginning of November. Unfortunately, I’m not a machine and I can’t write in seconds like Chat GPT. 

Without further ado, let’s get on with those questions!

Where did you get the inspo for the fic?

Oh my god if I tell you guys about this… It all started when I was in class, sometimes when I’m bored, my little mind starts to wander. I’m a total daydreamer, I can’t deny that, but at that moment in particular I was quite literally thinking of nothing and everything at the same time. And then, out of nowhere, this phrase came to me: 

“You look at them the same way you looked at me when we met…” 

And I was like, “omg that’s so freaking angsty” and “That’s a great freaking line for a poly story” And I quite literally wrote it down with a little tag that said, “-the start of a poly relationship story because I’ve never read enough of those.” 

And then I closed the notebook and went back to class. But I guess the idea had already set in my brain because next thing I know, I’m writing down more things down. And let me tell you, before Gilded Constellations I only wrote Oneshots because a story seemed like too much commitment. So I kid you not, I wrote down: 

“Not a short story, but maybe a 3-5 chapter long fic”. 

Jokes on me though, we’re 15 chapters in, like 20-something written and we’re probably going to end up with longer than 200k words and I’m not even sorry about it. Besides, I'm really pumped to finish it because I want to get it printed in Lulu and have my own little copy as a “Damn you wrote that.” kind of evidence thing. So worry not about being left with an unfinished fic, I’m going to complete this story even if it’s the last thing I do. 

Besides, if I’m being honest, when I’m not writing, I miss my boys, so I’ll definitely miss passing the time with them when I’m done with GC. (Luckily I’ve already got another series planned and spoiler alert: This one will be Poly!Marauders x reader, a lot spicier aaaand, PIRATES.) 

That’s how the fic started, well that and a dream that was basically most of Chapter 3 and I thought it was so cute that I wrote it down and then I was like, “hold up, this could be the start of the Poly story I was talking about…” 

Are there any real-life experiences that influenced your writing?

Well I mean, I’d say that art imitates life and life imitates art, but in regards to real-life romance I don’t really know that much. But there are definitely some things here and there that have been sprinkled from my real life into the fic. Not sure if I could think of a particular one but I can say sometimes Remus gives me the same vibe that a boy I “used to” have a crush on. “Used to” in quotation marks because I kinda still do even if we haven’t seen each other in years. 

So I guess a lot of Remus comes from my crush, but also Remus is his own little boy as well and I love him more for it. Even If I’m torturing him so much with his heartache, I promise it will be worth it Remus, reader and Sirius will take care of you, eventually. 

Other than that, I guess I like to pay attention to things around me, you’ll see me looking at nature, the sky, the way leaves move, the way people interact with each other. Especially at that actually, I like to pay attention to people, how they move, how they interact, and their reactions. Sometimes I do it irl, and sometimes I just watch movies or series, and since my writing process is like seeing a movie in my head and then putting it into words, it’s always useful to pay attention to the world around me. Even if I sometimes struggle to put into words exactly what I’m seeing in my head.  

Did you already have everything planned, or did you just go with the flow? If you have already, how far? all of it? Or just some chapters ahead? 

Well, yes and no. I do have various key points of the story planned, a lot of plot points that are going to happen and that’s kinda what I’m sustaining myself on. I know the big points and then I just have to write what happens in between them. And I’ve got it planned all the way ‘till my babes all start dating. After that, if I’m honest I’m not sure how I’m going to end it. Some parts of me want to go for the saddest ending possible because it would go along with cannon and the other side of me, the one that can’t bear to see my boys being sad, wants to just deviate completely and/or leave an open ending. 

But so far, I really cannot tell what exactly I’m going to do, I just know that time will tell. Because sometimes the characters just do what they want and I love to see where they take me. Which is why the ending is not set in stone just yet. 

Without giving too many spoilers, can you tease upcoming plot twists or surprises we can expect in future chapters?

My sly little foxes have already guessed some of the major plot twists that are upcoming in the story. And there definitely will come some surprises along the way, some you will love, some you won’t so much. But I promise you it will all be worth it! 

Remember in Gilded Constellations, everything happens for a reason. 

THE FANCAST

What's your fancast for the fic? Did you pick the reader too or just leave it be? //  I wanted to know if you have a fancast for everyone…

I did mention that I basically see stuff as a movie in my head right? So yes, I do have a fancast! Although I most definitely see James as Aaron, Sirius as Ben, Remus as Andrew and Peter as Dane, I have also twisted them in my brain. Like it’s them, right? But my version of them. Like my Sirius is so fucking ethereal in my head that sometimes I myself blush with his beauty. And Remus, well, he is probably most similar to Talita Asami’s from instagram. Especially this one. 

There’s something about the way she contrasts his soft features with the scars that’s just perfect. It’s that sexy pirate vibe I cannot get out of my head, if that makes sense.  But also I’ve been toying with AI lately (Talkie) and ended up with these two versions of Remus and Sirius and they have absolutely taken over. 

Sidenote: I made way to many of these, so do tell me if you wanna see them.

The reader: Uhm… well, I kind of just see her as me, hehe. Which is kind of the point, you should all just see the reader as yourselves, if you’re comfortable with that of course. 

The rest of our babies though? Lily Evans, Marlene and Mary, are kind of like the boys as in I see them as their fancast but also not entirely. And Lily especially, she’s just so freaking pretty in my head, there’s no one I know to match her, all thought Sophie Skelton and Kennedy Walsh (@/c4tluvr666 on Tiktok) are super close. 

Now, outside of canon characters, aka all of these OC’s I’ve been creating with time, some of them do have a fancast and some of them don’t. Let’s focus on the ones that do, because some of them I literally had in my head since the very, very beginning of the fic. 

Tom Harrow- This boy actually started as a younger version of Tom Hiddleston in my head, but the more I wrote him, the more he said, “Luv, that’s not what I look like!” And, almost out of nowhere, baby Tom Hiddleston became Rober Sheehan, and let me tell you, it stuck. And it stuck so bad there is no way I could see Tom as anything other than Rob. Especially with his role as Klaus in Umbrella Academy having a rather similar personality in the entire open-minded spectrum that he’s got going on. And, talking about teasers, this boy is actually going to be a key point on the romance between our golden throuple to develop, so keep an eye out for him. I love him so much tbh.  

Then we’ve got Beth Doxon, this girl is my wifey, I freaking love Beth so much and if you’ve been paying attention you may already know who I based her off, at least in looks. It’s Anya Taylor Joy as Beth Harmon in Queen’s Gambit, redhead queen (can you tell I really, really like redheads?) . Also that’s why she has such a strong character, even if my Beth is a lot more of a Party Animal than the original character. 

Alexander Wood in my head is just a carbon copy of his son Oliver, but in Hufflepuff, and the rest of the Quidditch teams, I’ve got a good idea of what they look like in my head, but not really a fan cast for them. Suggestions accepted. 

Well, except for Minho Yun, since his role in the story is going to be as a pretty strong supporting character, in fact, he was meant to be somewhat of an alt love interest that was going to help build Sirius’ jealousy, but in the end, I decided to completely scrap that to further develop him as a character. Some interesting things that you’ll actually learn on the GC Halloween special. Oh, and Minho is actually based on Sang Heon Lee (on looks) and Ki Hong Lee (on character, specifically on his role in Maze Runner). Had I based Minho on the character of Sang Heon Lee who inspired him, we would have way too many slutty boys in the same room, with Tom and Sirius and him, It’d be chaos, which is why he ended up being a little shier. 

Nox, Neil and Todd, literally are just Nox, Neil and Tod from De*d Poets Society. I was rewatching the movie to nail that boy friend group interactions and to get in the Dark Academia Vibes and I wanted to give my boys a happy ending. 

Also Neil just gives me the most massive Prongs vibe I cannot.

And lastly, there’s Nina Blythe. Nina to me is a totally angelic girl, I’ve got a very vivid picture of what she looks like in my head but I don’t really have a fancast for her. Maybe a little bit like Aurora (the singer), in regards to her soft features, but Nina has longer hair and it’s a little wavy. I kind of think of her as a girl from a Renaissance painting, emphasis on girl, since she is supposed to look younger than she is. Any ideas for a fancast? For her and for anyone I missed, I’m completely open to your suggestions. 

THE TEACHERS

Professor Nightshade is definitely Eva Green from Miss Peregrine or Jessica Chastain from Crimson Peak. She’s got that tall,  regal and dark but elegant vibe to her that is just so freaking gorgeous and awe-inspiring. I totally have a crush on Seraphina, can you tell? 

Professor Aurelius Spellman is kind of inspired by Kingsley Shackelbolt. However, if I had to cast someone for the role it would be Djimon Hounsou, he has that attractive and rough vibe to him. Like scary, demanding but also alluring things going on, he’s just got the magician type I suppose. 

This one’s going to be silly, but I can’t imagine Kettleburn as anyone other than Gobber the Belch from HTTYD, like, take away the horned helmet and give him a pointy hat, and boom, Kettleburn ladies and gentlemen. Down to the messy personality, honestly. 

And Donovan Pendragon (the teacher for Magical Theory) I feel like he isn’t mentioned enough, because I literally had no idea what his name was even going to be and I just left a line for it until I was editing the chapter before posting. So he doesn’t really have a cast. He’s caucasian in my head, but that’s about all I’ve got from him. Any ideas? 

Do you have any headcanons for any of the characters and their relationship that you haven’t talked about in the story? 

REMUS: Well I feel like this one has been talked about several times in the story but Remus being a beast in bed? I feel like everyone loves to tease him about it in the castle but to me, he’s also a total soft boy? Like especially the first time, I feel like he’s going to be so overwhelmed by both Sirius and Reader that he will basically just melt in the hands of his lovers. 

SIRIUS: Smitten little puppy of my life. 

SIRIUS AND REMUS: They’ve totally kissed in the past. At least once, and Remus still dreams about it. Sirius, well… maybe he’ll get some memories of it every now and then.

READER: My girl thinks she’s so freaking smart and yet is the most oblivious to her own feelings; she could be considered an idiot. She’s also so selfless it hurts, but like literally. Also, she loves flirting with Sirius way too much. Still, they definitely will need Rem in their relationship because there is no self-preservation sense when her personality is just as chaotic as our Puppy. Side note: Remus will 100% blush when she starts flirting with him in the same way he does with Sirius. And let’s not talk about what a tomato he will be when Sirius does it as well. 

PETER: He kinda disliked the reader at first, especially since he felt like she was taking away his friends, but eventually he warmed up to her, and loves their friendship. 

LILY: She enjoyed the kiss with Reader, and it made her realize she’s totally bi, because she also enjoyed the kiss with James. 

TOM: My boy is clever as hell and he knows a lot more than he lets on. Also, he secretly ships the golden throuple. 

BETH: She’s Tom’s bestie and she knows a lot of things too. She will also ignite chaos with the ultimate goal of being Gryffindor Tower’s own cupid. Do you think what happened at Marlene’s Party was a coincidence? 

REGG: My beautiful Reggie is still sad about the incident. He’s still trying to find a way to reconnect with you and it pains him that you think he’d rat you out. Even then, he values the fact that you are with Sirius and that you’re helping him through everything that’s been going on, especially since he saw how red Sirius’s eyes were when he left the Black’s house with a trunk in hand sobs stuck in his throat. Reg cried like a baby that night, just wishing for time to go by as fast as possible so he could go back to school and see his big brother again. (I’m so sorry for that guys).

MINHO: Has a secret crush and you would not believe me if I told you who it was. 

NINA: Has a secret crush and some of you have probably already guessed who it is. 

DAMOCLES: You don’t know him yet but omg he’s just so clever, thank you Kles for existing.

And let's be honest, I totally have a bunch more of this but I think this is way more than enough, for now…

Out of all the chapters so far, what’s been your favorite?

This is too fucking hard to decide. But If I had to choose my top three, and in no order in particular, I’d say, for the released ones:  

Fooled around and Fell in Love

Because, can we talk about the kiss scene? I feel like this one will come back bite my kiddos in the back so they finally realize what they actually fucking need. 

Do Ya 

I’m a total sucker for Sirius, what can I tell ya? But also the flying scenes were so much fun to write, totally an adventure to go through, still among my favs. 

Maybe I’m amazed 

“Do you like Golf?” 

From the unreleased episodes: 

Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

The calm before the storm. Or is it the storm before the storm? 

Bad Moon Rising 

The FUCKING storm. But also one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I think I like action scenes a little too much.

*** On The Run

The storm continues. But also, the calm after the storm.

Do you have a playlist that you always listen to when you're writing? 

Not a specific playlist, but I have been listening to a lot of ‘70s rock. Things like Queen, Bowie, Boston, Foreigner,  Kansas, Fleetwood Mac, Nazareth, The Police and some others. All of them help me get in the mood for writing. At least in the mood of the era, if that makes sense.

Aside from the ’70s classics, I’ve also been listening to a lot of Lord Huron, Hozier, and Aurora (I sort of discovered her recently and I’m obsessed with some of her songs). Also some of The Killers, Dotan and Vian Izak sprinkled here and there. Bastille and Imagine Dragons are always and forever so of course they wouldn’t be missing from my list. 

But when I’m struggling, like really struggling with writing, then I go to this Best Instrumental playlist, where they have everything from the Narnia and Peter Pan 2003 soundtracks to Vivaldi and Ghibli.  It really does help with the concentration. 

How long for the guys to understand that they fancy each other? 

Well, when you say the guys do you mean Sirius and Remus? ‘Cause then it’s not thaaaaaat far away from now. Now from then to them all dating, well…

I know Remus kind of struggles with feelings, and probably even more now that Sirius and the reader are together. But when he's gonna say "hey, can I come in?" 😏 lol I just want them together so baaaad!

Ahahahahahaha, Well that’s not exactly how it’s gonna go, but it’ll happen sometime after Christmas.

After wolfstar and the reader get together, the fic will end? or we're gonna have a lot of them together to compensate for the agony? 🥺

I’m not sure about the ending yet, but I’m definitely going to add so much fluff of the three of them together that you’re all gonna get cavities. Also, I’ve been writing The 5 Senses and the Halloween special (that might be finished until after Halloween) to practice for the spice, so I’m def compensating for the agony. 

Also, I kind of want to explore the social implications of being in a throuple, of making that public in the `70s. Seems like a whole lotta issue bringer that kinda interests me… Sorry, you’re not completely getting rid of the angst even when they’re all together. 

I don’t remember if I already asked you about this, but as a Regulus’ wife, I need to know. He'll come back, right? She will talk with him and he will be able to explain everything to her? I need this, I really need this! I can leave without this closing. THEY NEED TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN!

Your husband is safe with me. I promise. I’m not gonna say it’s gonna be very soon, but he will be safe because I love baby Reggie and I too can’t stand him being mistreated either. 

Not a question. I just want to say that I really love this story. It's one of my favorites, and I just put it on my masterlist for how much I love it.

Aww shut up, I love you so much <3

Will we have some Sirius jealousy? ‘Cause I'm really interested in that. Oooh... will he notice that Reader and Remus are... more than friends before they even know it? I dunno, he's just oblivious about everything around him. 

Funny that you ask, yes we will have a lot of Jealous!Sirius, in fact, it’s a huge part of how the throuple will develop. And you will have it so soon, even if it’s not exactly what you expect it to be. I can’t wait for next week!

And in regards to noticing, well… Sirius is not going to be the most oblivious about his own feelings in this story. I mean… not always.

Are there any particular scenes or moments in your story that were especially fun or challenging to write?

Well, I’m actually finding it a lot harder to write stuff atm, so I’d say the limbo between the Bad Moon Rising Arch and the next big thing that’s going to happen has been the hardest. Especially since I’m already going to get to a key point in which some shit is going to go down and I’m still not sure how bad and angsty I want to make it. Don’t worry, our golden throuple will be alright but…

In regards to fun, I must say the parties are some of my favorites, Potion Pong was incredibly fun to write ‘cause I literally transported myself to it and it was like actually living it, even if it was in my head. Also the flying scenes, they’re always fun to write, the race was incredible tbh. 

I love to write the fun banter and the teasing too, it brings me joy. But I bet you could tell I’m one for the teasing from the very first chapters of Gilded Constellations. 

Nina fancies Reader, right? She does. I just need a yes. I already know that 😌 

( ≖‿  ≖ )

Can you share any behind-the-scenes trivia or Easter eggs that readers might not have noticed in your story?

I feel like there’s a lot of behind-scenes I shared so far but I guess I could share a few pics of my organization systems. Things like…

Your schedule: 

The cover:

Some of you have already been theorizing about it too, you can look at some of those theories over here, and here, and also here.

Alt Covers I designed but weren't chosen:

Something you might not know:

GC is also available on Wattpad and AO3. The AO3 chapters usually drop like 30 minutes or an hour before Tumblr because it's easier to post there. And the Wattpad releases are actually way behind in comparison (there isn't much engagement over there).

Some Shots of my Plot notebook (0 spoilers): 

And also, have you noticed the special little thing in the names of the chapters? 10 housepoints to whoever notices

I just thought of this, but what if we make a little housepont system and from things that you guys guess of the story you get housepoints and then we have a houseprice in the end? OMG I'd love to do this, if you're on tell me your house in the comments. So far Sytherin would have like 40 points just beacuse of dear @cometsghost and I'm not sure what is @blacksgarden house but they would also have like 40 pts.

How do you stay motivated and inspired to keep writing, especially in moments when you might experience writer's block?

It may or may not be healthy, but I just force myself to type? I never really have writer’s block, rather I’d call it writer’s overload. It’s when I’m running through so many possibilities in my head and I can’t pick which is the one I want to go through with. So I keep thinking about it and I don’t type. Which is why I just force myself to type, more often than not I’ll end up writing something I really like. 

And as for the motivation, honestly just getting to see my boys again. To be able to submerge back into Hogwarts, that’s enough motivation. I seriously get an urge to go back because I miss them. It's kinda crazy. Like I might be chilling at home and suddenly the thought “I wish I was at Hogwarts” crosses my mind, not even joking. 

The other motivation is finishing my book so I can get a printed version to place in my bookshelf and show it off. Not that anyone would know what it is, but I’d know, which is enough, hehe. And also to be a better writer, they say you should write every single day, which is kind of what I’m attempting to do with GC. By writing a chapter every week, I literally force myself to write every single day, even if just a couple of words. 

Can we have cute moments with Remus? uuuh, Will he be cute when she notices that she really likes him?

Yes! We can have all the cute moments with Remus. Even before they all notice they’re into each other, we’re gonna have so many cute moments because even if Reader is dating Sirius I can’t leave my beautiful boy on the sidelines. Besides, how can I torture him if he doesn’t get a taste of how good it would be to be with them? 

What can readers look forward to in the next chapters, and do you have any long-term plans or goals for GCs development?

Angst. Don’t hate me for this. But also comfort, and some fun little adventures and then a bit more angst, hehe…

Well, that’s the end of the questions I got sent ahead. Hope you enjoyed this rollercoaster of a Q&A. If you have any more, or if my answers have provoked further questions, then by all means, share them with me, I’d love to be able to interact with you a bit more. 

Love ya, Lily xx

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader

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Raead more Marauders Fiction

[ebdaydreamer]

wip wednesday

guys, guess who's writing more mommy kink! I'm actually writing two mommy kink fics at once. one breeding kink, and one buddietommy

I got tagged a couple of weeks ago, but I finally have enough to share!

tagging (no pressure!): @bidisasterevankinard @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @loserdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz

@bigfootsmom @monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc

breeding kink:

Eddie’s back hits the wall the second he steps foot in the apartment. His surprise is swallowed by Buck’s lips. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend, melting at the solid mass of muscle pressing him into the wall.

He moans as Buck’s lips travel down his cheek and neck. The lightest touch of stubble leaves a gentle burn as he goes.

“Eddie… Eddie…” Buck mumbles into his neck. “Eddie, please, please.”

Eddie hums. “Now, now, how do we ask for things?”

“Mommy,” Buck moans.

Eddie’s hips jolt forwards, seeking friction and finding it against Buck’s thigh. “Better, but not quite. What do you want, baby?”

Buck lifts his head, but before Eddie can mourn the loss of his lips, he says, “I want to fuck you. Want to fill your cunt over and over.” Eddie shivers, and Buck presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. “Want to plug you up to keep it in, to keep you open so I can fuck you again. And again. Want to get you pregnant.”

“Upstairs,” Eddie pushes off the door, practically dragging them to the bedroom. “Naked. On the bed. Now!”

They race up the stairs and strip themselves, too eager to take their time. Eddie is down to his boxers, when he’s grabbed from behind and tossed on the bed.

And whilst being manhandled by his boyfriend is, in fact, hot as hell, Eddie knows Buck does it for a reason.

“Did Mommy say you could do that baby?” he scolds, but Buck is already towering over him.

“My baby boy is usually better behaved than this.” He snakes a hand up and grips Buck’s curls so tightly it’s bound to be a little painful, which gets a delicious whine out of him. “Maybe you don’t deserve to knock Mommy up. Only good boys get their Mommies pussies.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Eddie can see Buck’s cock twitch where it hangs between his legs. “I’m just so excited.”

Eddie sighs, releasing his grip. “Well, you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“I will.” Buck quickly pecks his lips. “I promise. How?”

“You’re a clever boy, you know what Mommy likes,” he says as he strokes his finger through Buck’s hair, soothing the spot he had been pulling. “Surprise me.”

Buck grins. It’s a grin he doesn’t usually see when they do Mommy and baby. It’s confident and seductive and usually means Eddie’s in trouble.

He starts at the corner of Eddie’s jaw, leaving a light but very wet kiss. He makes a torturously slow trail down Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s cock twitches where it’s still trapped in his boxers. He almost says ‘fuck it’ and demands that Buck get his cock inside of him and knock him up right this second. But he knows it will be so worth it to let it last.

Buck halts his trail at Eddie’s collarbone when he looks up at Eddie and says, “You’ll be so pretty pregnant, Mommy.”

buddietommy:

He opens the door and sees Eddie curled up in Tommy’s lap, both shirtless, as they make out. His blood rushes south so fast it makes him dizzy.

He catches Tommy’s eye, who pulls away to mummer, “Look, sweetheart, look who’s home.” He smiles at Buck. “Hey, kid.”

Buck choked down some saliva that had been filling his mouth. “Hi, Daddy.”

They only did this a couple of times when they were together. But it was some of the best sex of Buck’s life and he can’t wait to do it again. But this time, with Eddie, his Mommy.

“Well, aren’t you going to kiss Mommy and Daddy hello?” Eddie tuts.

Being told to do something jolts Buck awake, letting him know that this is not, in fact, a dream. He goes to their guest first, threading his fingers through his hair. Tommy cups his jaw, the weight as firm and grounding as it always was. His lips are swollen and he tastes a little like Eddie. He wonders how long they’d been here, making out, waiting for him.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello lovely fandom and readers. Hard to believe it’s been almost 3 weeks since 6x06. It feels like it’s been forever and not enough time all at once. I don’t feel ready tbh. Idk I’ll ever truly be ready to start this next stage with them. But I know it’s a must to get through the mud and suck right now. That it’ll be worth it when we’re on the other side of this. Idk how I’m going to feel post 6x07. I’ll be doing my best to get my “mini.” thoughts out Wednesday like normal. Since I’m a day behind due to watching on Hulu.

If I don’t afterwards please forgive my lateness once again. Not my usual M.O. to be late on posting. Just have to see where I’m at emotionally. As I’ve stated before been long time since had a ship rock me like this. I truly believe we’ll be ok. Eric’s wonderful cameos have been a god send. Our Captain being amazing per usual. Just wanted to send out a post before the week began. We’re in this together my amazing fandom. I hope my words in the coming eps bring some comfort as we navigate the rest of this season together. ❤️ We got this.

[shelfthe-reader]

Super late WIP Wednesday 10/30 post

What it says on the tin. I’ll update the WIP Wednesday community with all of the random stuff.

BUCKLEYS TAKE LA - @twyrewolf , @aparticularbandit

While inspecting the room, Evan realized that there wasn’t much for him to pack. Sure, he was a relatively sentimental person, but he didn’t want to take much of that with him - just in case something happened. Danny and Maddie would appreciate some of it anyway.  Clothing was surprisingly the easiest to deal with. Evan didn’t need much - only a couple weeks worth, and maybe some nicer outfits - so the rest could go into storage or donated. He didn’t really care either way.

i know nothing about the military ft a secret relationship - @allofthebeanz @zyrafowe-sny

NOTE: GIRLIE IS STILL GIVING BIRTH TO HER SON + THERE ARE COMPLICATIONS BUT SINCE ITS A DIFFERENT POV IT’S KINDA VAGUE SO IT SHOULD BE FINE BUT TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES.

The nurse took that as an invitation to look under the blanket, which Eddie thought was a little strange, but what did he know?  There was a brief pause, followed by an uncomfortable silence.  “Okay, Shannon, we may have to do things a little differently now,” the nurse approached.  Eddie could feel Shannon’s pulse quicken. It definitely wasn’t the ideal situation, and he started praying.  “Differently? What do you mean by differently?”

FBN: THE FIC - @auburnlaughter @loyal-house-of-lupin @hurricanebreeze @eriquin @kallisto-k

The Captain gestured to the seat opposite of himself and Buck sat down and took in the sight in front of him.  The Captain was thumbing through a file. His own, Buck figured. T.K., though he had his own copy, opted to continue staring into Buck’s soul like it had personally offended him.  Not cool, man.  Channeling some of the Diaz Sass, (It’s not ‘sass’, Buck, Eddie would argue, I just can’t deal with it anymore) Buck decided to take a shot.  “You look like you want to ask me something, Strand. Wanna bite?” T.K smirked, placing his forearms on the table and leaning in towards Buck.  “Would you,” he started, “or would you not commit a hate crime while on shift?” What the fuck?  Out of any outrageous question Buck thought he was going to get, that was the last thing he expected.

Re-evaluate Your Decisions Bestie - @lizhly @tamsinswriting @somefishycat @asha10100101010 @wizisbored

@oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @whimsicalmeerkat @post-and-out

NOTE: THERE IS A CW FOR ALLUSIONS TO SU*C*DE AT THE END TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES

Eddie felt his eyes well up in tears, but he did nothing to fight them.  Ignore them, his father would tell him. Real men don’t cry.  He tried not to think of his father. Being a real man got him into this mess.  “Did he tell you anything else?” He whispered, not trusting his voice. Carla glared at him, but there was a softness to it. That was the best part about Carla, Eddie decided. She still loved him, even if he was being an ass.  “Not much, Eddie,” she replied. “The poor boy wouldn’t even tell me where he was going. He doesn’t trust anyone right now. But…” “But what, Carla?” Eddie begged. “What did he tell you? We need, I need to know if… if he…” Eddie trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence. The whole room understood, though.  Carla wrapped Eddie in her embrace, and, though it was still a bit stiff, it was still warm enough. “Oh Eddie,” she said. “No need to worry about that, baby. He handed me a stack of transfer papers, not resignation forms. He’s okay. Well, not okay, exactly, but alive.”